Looking For Space
by Cheryl W
Summary: Sam might have been the one to run away to Flagstaff, but Caleb knows its Dean they just might lose forever if someone doesn't show him his own self-worth. Ridley's Brotherhood AU. No Slash.
1. Pride Comes Before A Fall

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, or John Denver's song which this story is named after, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Sam might have been the one to run away to Flagstaff, but Caleb knows its Dean they just might lose forever if someone doesn't show him his own self-worth. Ridley's Brotherhood AU. No Slash.

Author's Note: First and foremost, a HUGE thanks goes out to Ridley C. James for creating the awesomest of AUs: the Brotherhood! And that she graciously is allowing me to play with your world….just blows me away. (Now hoping I don't screw this story up!) I did do some tweaking to Ridley's universe & Kripke's to fit my dastardly needs. I'm making Dean 15 years old which means Sam is 11 when he runs away and this tale doesn't follow the happening in Ridley's "What Brings Us Home" story.

I have some trepidation on posting this story because I want good to come out of it, to make someone have hope, not despair. That said, I do want to put a warning out there that there will be kid's doing reckless dares, some vague suicide talk, and a very strained Dean and Caleb relationship. If that's not your thing, I'll get it if you pass on this story. But as with all my tales, it will all end well because I'm a sap. And I believe that sometimes the only way to better times is right through the heart of some of your worst times.

One more tidbit, the title comes from the John Denver song because I love the line "Sometimes I fly like an eagle, sometimes I'm deep in despair."

Now onto the story…

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Chapter 1: Pride Come Before A Fall

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The pride of your heart has deceived you.

~ Jeremiah 49: 16

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Fifteen year old Dean was angrily stalking through the forest, leaving Caleb nearly running to catch up with him.

"Dean, wait!"

"Why, you need me to play bait again? Maybe the thing has a mate you'd like to eat me while you watched, took notes on its dining habits."

"I wasn't just sitting back, watching, Dean! I wouldn't let anything happen to you," Caleb defended, couldn't believe Dean would think anything differently.

"Liar! You woulda let that thing take a bite out of me if you needed it distracted another few minutes," Dean threw over his shoulder, hoped the branch he pushed out of the way smacked Caleb right in the kisser.

Enough was enough. Caleb abandoned the kid gloves he was donning for Dean and grabbed the kid, spun him around. "I wouldn't risk you, you know that," as serious as he got about something he took as his duty in life.

"You just did!" Dean shouted, tried and failed to get his arm from Caleb's grabby hand. "I was your friggin' bait and you didn't even have the balls to tell me that. I was the chum in the water. It came right after me, no one else. What, it likes young meat?"

Caleb was set to deny all of it but another voice spoke before he could.

"My Dad said it's attracted to the young but what it really finds juicy is high emotions," Jason Lositros, the sixteen year old kid of one of the hunters involved in the job drawled, almost with amusement. But when he turned to Caleb, whatever humor he might have fabricated vanished, traded place with out-and-out hostility. "Is that why you brought up Dean's brother before the hunt, about him running away and how hurt Dean was over it? Masterful plan, really. Gold Star for Despicable Hunter Manipulation."

Furious, Dean snarled, "Wow! You really are Dad's greatest student. The hunt before anything or anyone. Victory at _any_ cost.

Stiffening at the comparison, Caleb coldly retorted, "We needed to stop this thing before anyone else got hurt." But he couldn't stand up to the hurt filtering through Dean's anger. "This…you were our best chance and if I told you…"

"You're emotional hot poker might not have worked," Dean angrily surmised. "I might have been too friggin' happy thinking you..that _**someone**_ actually wanted to be around me. And that woulda been a turn off to the fugly."

Caleb cringed, because it was hitting him now, that he had just heaped more self-doubt, self-hatred on his best friend when there was enough there after Sam did his face-on-a-milk-carton escapade two weeks ago. "Crap. No, Dean..I really wanted…."

"To kill the thing 'cause it's slipped through your fingers without the proper bait. And you were afraid the Knight would think you're losing your touch. I can see your motives are so worth me getting killed," Dean scathingly shot back.

Bombarded with guilt and horrifyingly shamed at his actions, Caleb went on the defensive. "This is the job, Dean! You're a hunter, not an innocent to be protected! I know you don't have a ring yet but I thought you still had the nerve to do the right thing."

The look cut Dean deep, real deep, Caleb basically calling him weak and a coward.

Seeing the wrecked look on Dean's face, Caleb felt like throwing up, knew he had gone too far.

Jason spoke up. "That's hilarious, you calling him out for being weak. He's the one who drew that thing in, didn't run until the last second, emptied a clip in its hide before he gave any ground. You're the coward hiding behind your mojo lines, waiting for Dean to bring it to your doorstep. I think it's pretty clear who's the gutless wonder in this screwed up hunt. Come on, Dean. I'll give you a ride home. Let the self-righteous "adults" clean up their mess."

Without another word, Dean left with Jason but not before Caleb caught Dean's heartbroken expression and that was on him, he alone caused it. And being the one to hurt Dean instead of being the one to heal him, it was the worst feeling Caleb had ever had.

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Watching his passenger sulking, Jason couldn't handle the silence in his beat up pickup truck any longer. "It's a crappy life, huh? They try and spruce it up, make it about honor and loyalty, but at the end of the day, it comes down to revenge, doesn't it. Egos and getting even and …" he bitterly laughed. "We're not their kids to be protected, we're their tools to be wielded. Their own personal good little soldiers, trained to obey without question and to die …." Here he broke off, looked to Dean and saw by the younger kid's wide eyes that his speech was hitting him where he lived, where they both lived.

"But hey, we get to kill monsters, shoot guns, skip school and generally be heroes," he said, highlighting the perks of being hunters. "And it makes normal kid stuff boring…like going home, doing homework. So what do you say we do a little detour, live a little for ourselves for a change?"

Liking the sound of that, Dean smiled at Jason. "What did you have in mind?"

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After cleaning up the "mess" as that Jason kid had called it, Caleb was using his long legs to his advantage, was steamrolling out of the forest, rehashing yet another practice apology to Dean in his head. Even he wasn't buying it though, didn't think there was an excuse in the world for what he had done, for putting _Dean_ in danger without giving the kid the heads up, for unforgivably using him for bait. If there was a worst best friend in the world than he was, he'd be surprised.

But all his thoughts scattered as a vision hit him hard, had him dropping to his knees on the forest floor, mind filled with surroundings that weren't his own. A view of rushing water twenty feet below, churning so hard it was frothy and white, then he was falling, hit the water hard, nearly blacked out only to realize he couldn't breathe because, to take a breath would be to take in water. But either way, his lungs were burning for air, air he wasn't getting. Thought he might die before he ever did again. Then Dean's feelings slammed into him: fear, acceptance, exhilaration and freedom. And one thought: _Don't know who'll be more pissed if I die:_ _Dad because he'll be down a hunter or Sam because he'll have to step up to the plate and take my place._

Caleb screamed Dean's name.

Then the vision slipped through Caleb's grasp, left him so lost and afraid he couldn't move.

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** TBC**

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Thanks for reading and I would love to know what you think of the story so far!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	2. Free Bird

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Summary: Sam might have been the one to run away to Flagstaff, but Caleb knows it's Dean they just might lose forever if someone doesn't show him his own self-worth. Ridley's Brotherhood AU. No Slash.

Author's Notes: I'm so honored by the outpouring of reviews and those who put this story on alert and even favorites! The wonderful fondness so many of us have for the Brotherhood AU that Ridley and Tidia created surely shines through your support.

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CHAPTER 2: Free Bird

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When they passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.

~ Isaiah 43: 2

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A hand on his shoulder jolted Caleb back to the here and now, had his true surroundings coming into clarity around him but the vision still had ahold of him by the throat, made his first word more a grunt than anything. Heard voices above him that he didn't recognize, then a familiar one joined the crowd: Josh.

"Alright give him some room, surely this is pretty dull stuff compared to what just went down," Joshua Sawyer drily said, pushing through the two hunters to see Caleb was down on all fours, sure signs that the physic had had a vision. A bad one if he wasn't on his feet yet, taking swings at the gathered observers.

"He screamed, almost sounded like that Winchester kid's name," James Lositros helpfully pointed out.

Getting a hand under Caleb's arm, Joshua pulled the psychic to his feet, downplayed for their audience, "It's a ritual he likes to do after each hunt, call out the names of the successful hunters. I think it's a jock thing..but I never understand those." And he about had the two hunters leaving when Caleb came back to himself, actually reached out and grabbed the hulking mass that was James Lositros.

"Where's your son?! Dean went with your son Jason. Where would he go? There was water…a rapids…" Caleb demanded, trying to find a way to get to Dean, to stop his vision from happening, to save Dean.

"Jason's been all over this county and the next. Kid knows the best watering holes…" Lositros said with a chuckle of pride.

But Caleb wasn't laughing, was snarling in the hunter's face the next moment. "Some cliff…some place they could jump into the river and it has rough rapids."

Lositros only smirked back at Caleb's obvious panic. "That's what's got you all bent out of shape?! Kids just blowing off steam, that's all. They'll be home in time for supper."

Before Caleb could actually take a swing at Lositros, Joshua was there, pulling Caleb's hands from Lositros and squeezing between the two men. He held Caleb back when the other hunters turned and left them alone.  
>"Let me go! I need to find Dean!" Caleb snarled, wasn't prepared for Josh to shake him with enough force to snap his head back.<p>

"Calm down!" Joshua commanded, surprised when his shake and his order actually stilled Reaves. "I take it your vision was about Dean."

"He…he jumped into the water, was…drowning…"

"There are hundreds of places along the river they could be. You think he's with Lositros' kid?"

"He left with him."

"Apparently his father's going to be of no help. We could drive the route back to Dean's place…see if we can see where they might have pulled off the road."

"We don't have time for a historic nature trail!" Caleb shouted, nearly hyperventilating in his panic.

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When Dean was able to finally break the surface of the water white, he gasped in air and water alike but it was like winning a championship baseball game, being the underdog and coming out the victor. So when he pulled himself to the side of the calming water, he let out a hoarse shout of triumphant. Accepted the hand that Jason offered him to pull him onto dry land, then they both collapsed there, took in life sustaining oxygen as the sun started to dry them off.

"Now that's living!" Jason crowed, running a hand through his wet hair and smiling down at Dean. "And I didn't do it because my old man told me to, or to save people who don't give a crap about me, or to avenge a thing. I did it because I wanted to. And I didn't need anyone _telling_ me I could do it, I knew in my gut that I could do it." He gave a proud shout to the sky.

Sitting up, Dean smirked bitterly, "My dad would be pissed that I risked maybe getting hurt and sidelined from hunting by doing some prank."

"My dad doesn't care either way," Jason nonchalantly replied. "I'm not his only son. He has three others to take my place when they're older. So one of us dies, just kick the next one out of the nest, right?"

Dean nodded, knew that was true of him too. Just like he had thought a few minutes ago, that if he didn't make it, Sam would take his place at his Dad's side, that things would go on without him. '_Probably no one would even bother mentioning my name after I'm gone. It would just turn into another dumb hunters' tale, that John Winchester had a first son that died._' Because Dad had gone ballistic when he learned that Sam had run off, and Dean had honestly feared that his father would beat the crap out of him for letting Sam slip through his fingers. Had watched his father's hands coil into fists and tried not to flinch as he waited for the blows to start raining down on him. And even though his father hadn't hit him, had somehow restrained himself from doing what he really _really_ wanted to do to his eldest son, his rage, his disappointment, his disgust was tangible.

Dean spoke into the silence that had fallen. "Sam, my younger brother, he hates hunting."

"Aaahh, so it wasn't that your dad smacked him around but hunting that had him ditching you," Jason drawled, saw the startled look in Dean's expression. "My Dad thought it was abuse. I mean, he's told me stories about how your dad's treated you on hunts, the balling out he's given you, the way he's risked your life. He figured your dad got even nastier in private."

It was a shock, that others talked about Dad, about him, about their family. And he couldn't be pissed at Jason or his dad for their assumption, not when he thought Dad was about to unleash his fists of fury on him two weeks ago. "He'd never hurt Sam." And that was true enough. '_Me he turned over to Caleb, knowing full well I was being bait, heck, he probably __told__ Caleb just what to say to get me ripped up inside so I would be juicy chum.'_

Jason's eyes watched him, told Dean that maybe he knew what he wasn't saying, that hurting Sam was off limits in his Dad's world, but not hurting him.

"That Reaves guy, he screwed you over too."

But that was a subject Dean couldn't talk about, hurt too much to even think about. "Let's get going," he announced as he climbed to his feet and started the hike back up to where they had left their clothing. Wished the adrenaline high wasn't over, could have stuck around longer, could blot out the hole in his heart where Caleb's betrayal, Sam's abandonment and his Dad's indifference festered. Shooting a look over his shoulder to Jason, he suggested, "Maybe we can do this again tomorrow."

Jason met the suggestion with a huge smile. "Nah, I say we up the game. I've been in this town for a month and I've scoped out some cool, out of the way places where we can have some real fun. Might even know some guys that have the stones to play at our level."

"I'm in," Dean agreed with a cocky smile, felt happy, for a change. Sam and his dad were at Pastor Jim's and Caleb, now that his all-important hunt was over, would bug out of town today. So he'd be alone and he was going to stop letting that get him down. Was going to soak up the freedom and do whatever _he_ wanted and screw his family and Caleb and the whole hunting/ Brotherhood thing.

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Roughly grabbing Caleb's jaw, Joshua forced his quasi-friend to face him. "You having a meltdown isn't going to help Dean. Do your thing, find him psychically. Maybe he's fine, just having fun like a normal kid, like Lositros said."

Since it was actually smart advice, Caleb took it. Searched for his connection with Dean….and found the younger man's essence, alive and well and ..happy. Wondered what kind of jerk it made him that he was almost _pissed_ at his findings.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	3. Cuts Like A Knife

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 3: Cuts Like a Knife

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And the contention was so sharp between them that they departed asunder one from the other.

~ Acts 15:39

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"Open the door, Deuce!" Caleb demanded as he pounded on Dean's motel door, could sense Dean within the room.

"There's no Deuce here!" Dean shouted through the closed door.

Caleb sighed. '_It's gonna be a long haul_.' "Dean, open the door." When there was no response, he pounded again. "That's an order!" Silence was all he got back in exchange, well, that and the next door neighbors coming out of their room and giving him the hairy eyeball. "Nephew," Caleb explained. "He's having one of his teenage tantrums." Apparently that was good enough for the neighbors because they retreated back into their room, probably didn't want any part of a teenager snit fit.

Still, when Caleb returned his attention to Dean's door, he dropped his voice, "Deuce…" Amended, "_Dean_, open the door or…I'll pick it anyway."

Suddenly the door was whipped open to reveal a, thankfully unscathed, if stoic, Dean. "What do you want, Reaves?" his stance clearing blocking Caleb's entrance into the room.

Startled at being called Reaves and not Caleb or even Damien, Caleb realized the uphill battle ahead of him. Dropping the command in his tone and replacing it was a tone of entreaty, he opened with, "To talk." '_To make sure you're really alive, in one piece after my vision.'_

But at Caleb's suggestion, Dean pulled the door closed even more, made sure that there wasn't an opening for the older man to slip by him and enter the room. "We've said it all already." Then he stepped back, not to contradict his words and let him in, as Caleb foolishly thought, but to shut the door in Reaves' face.

But Caleb's hand flew out, stopped the door's motion before it could click shut, before Dean could totally shut him out. "Please. Just…please," Caleb begged, didn't know the words he would say but couldn't bear for Dean to go on thinking even for another _second_ that he wasn't sorry for what he had done. And when Dean's angry expression faltered, Caleb had hope that things would be alright. Right before another hunter who was staying in the motel came up behind him, clapped him on the back and congratulated him.

"I had my doubts about you, kid, but you got the job done. Guess you're not such a bad choice of a protégé for Winchester after all. Course John would have waited until that thing was closer to our position instead of us having to haul butt after it for a quarter mile." Then the hunter left, didn't know the destruction he left in his wake.

Paling, Caleb eyes sought out Dean, saw the deep hurt scoring across the fifteen year old's eyes. It wasn't lost on either of them that Dean's life had been risked and he was getting none of the congratulations, that Dean had drawn the thing to their trap.

But it was Caleb who couldn't stand to wait until the thing reached the mark where the trap was, had pulled the start gun early, terrified that Dean would fall under the creature's pounce if he waited even another second.

Part of Caleb knew that he had done what John Winchester wouldn't have …even with his son's life in the balance. That John would have waited to spring the trap until Dean brought the creature right where they needed it. And the worst part of it was, Dean knew that too.

When Dean slammed the door closed, Caleb knew he had zero chance of getting to have the conversation he wanted to have that night. That between him and John, they had screwed up royally…and just like usual, Dean was the one walking away hurt.

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From his vantage point, Joshua saw his prey enter the hotel, taking a breath before he pushed out of the lobby's plush chair and fall in step with Reaves. "By your scowl, I take it Dean's not in a forgiving mood."

Striding forward without even looking at Josh, Caleb huskily replied, "Wouldn't even let me in his room to talk to him."

A little pushed to keep up with his taller companion's pace, Joshua asked, "So he's Ok after his white water sans raft stunt?" Quickly justifying to himself, '_Not like I'm concerned about the little punk…but just in case my mother would ask about him.'_

"It didn't come up in the two second conversation we had…in the hallway…while the rest of the motel listened in," Caleb's bitterness rampant before he sighed, came to a halt and faced Joshua. Rubbing a hand down his face in relief, he reported, "But he wasn't in pain…looked ok. Thank God."

And it wasn't that Joshua was relieved Dean was in one piece, he was just glad he didn't have to tell John Winchester something happened to his son while he was in a one hundred mile radius. "So he was just letting off some steam. Teenager stuff."

"That's not Dean's style," Caleb shot back, affronted on Dean's behalf.

"What?! Being _reckless_?!" Joshua scoffed back, didn't heed Caleb's glare but continued. "I've seen him be plenty reckless. He'd smart mouth Attila the Hun and he makes up plans as he goes."

"Ok, yeah but that works for him. And it's about survival," Caleb defended before he rebuked, "But jumping into a river is just…."

"Fun. Spontaneous. Rebellious," Joshua supplied, trying to hold back a smirk. When it came to Dean, Reaves could be such a mother hen. _'Except today. What he did to the kid today….wasn't right, on so many levels.'_

"He could have drown!" Caleb snapped at his fellow hunter. "Could have died…doing…"

"What? Something other than hunting? God forbid. Death is acceptable as long as it's in the line of duty. I think that's hunter credo number 2," Joshua contemptuously flung back to Caleb, knew how fathers like his own and John Winchester justified things, prioritized their goals..for themselves and their sons.

Grabbing onto Josh's jacket, Caleb roughly yanked the hunter closer, hissed into his face. "What the heck, Josh?! This is Dean we're talking about! I get that you care mostly about yourself but you _know_ how I feel about the kid."

Joshua shoved Caleb back, some of his own anger showing. "You forget, my Dad's a lot like John, I know what and _who_ they are willing to sacrifice to get the job done. I don't have hero worship blinders on." Letting the '_like you do'_ unsaid. "And as far as how you feel about Dean…I thought I knew…until you coldheartedly tricked the kid into being bait for a hunt you just had to get right. What with all these other hunters watching and at your beck and call. Dean's not the only one who's disgusted with how far you'll go to be hunter of the month." Then he stalked away, left Caleb with that disturbing thought.

A thought that made Caleb want to hurl…or get blinding drunk. Settling for option number 2, he headed to the bar, made himself a permanent fixture at a table, even shunned any and all female company that approached. He didn't move from the spot until the bar was closing up, until he was prodded to the door.

Stumbling back into his room, he felt a jolt of hope when he saw the motel's phone message light was lit. But the recorded voice that came back to him from the phone's speakers wasn't Dean's, was Mac's instead. Just like the two cellphone calls were that he didn't answer.

"Since you're not answering your cell, I'm betting you're off celebrating your successful hunt in ways I really don't want to hear about. I just called to say that I heard from Lositros what a well-planned takedown it was and I'm proud of you, Son. Call me tomorrow when you're sober."

'_Another congratulations I don't deserve._' Unable to fight his reaction this time, Caleb stumbled to the bathroom and promptly threw up. Crashing back on the bathroom floor to lean against the tub, he fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone and called his Dad, not giving one thought to the time.

"Hello," came a sleep muffled voice through the cell lines.

"Dad, its Caleb."

"Caleb it's…4am here."

"I..I screwed up…" Caleb confessed, his voice doing that trembling thing it rarely ever did.

From the cell phone came the ruffle of sheets, click of a light switch being turned on and then Mac's voice was far less hazy with sleep, "Ok, I'm up…I'm almost coherent. What's wrong, son?" Because he had never turned down his son when he needed him.

"I really screwed things up and Deuce…Dean, he's never gonna forgive me."

Mackland felt a chill at his son's amendment, rarely heard his son call Dean by name, knew it wasn't an insignificant choice. "Dean's not hurt, is he?" Fear starting to clutch onto his heart at the terrible thought.

"No…but that's not my fault. I …I used him, Dad. I used Dean because I wanted to look competent and smart, be a credit to John…to you. I didn't think…I just didn't think about what I was doing to Dean."

"Ok, calm down, Caleb. You used Dean how?"

Caleb drew in a ragged breath, knew he was inviting his father's disgust as well as Dean and Josh's. '_Disgust I have coming_.' "The monster..it was attracted to youth…and high emotions. I knew…I made sure it would go after Dean. And I never told Dean he was the bait. I…I brought up Sam running away right before the hunt because …because.." Here his voiced cracked apart, made stuttering more words nearly impossible.

But his father didn't need him to say them. "Because you knew it would upset him," Mackland deduced before his tone turned reprimanding. "Caleb, I can't believe you…."

"I know!" Caleb shouted but it was a broken sound, and as much as he knew Mac's disappointment in him was justified, it hurt. Badly. "I…I've ruined everything. I've…I've lost Dean. You're ashamed of me and …"

"And things will be ok, son," Mackland soothingly cut across his son's pained voice. "You screwed up, yes, but Dean…he loves you."

"I know and I put him in danger for my friggin' ego!"

Quietly Mackland stated, "It's not the first time for him."

Caleb's jaw jumped at the bitter truth of his father's words. "I'm not John. I don't get the free passes he does. Crap, Dad! What am I going to do?!"

Mackland replied using his reasonable, father-knows-best tone, "First, get some sleep. Take some aspirin when you wake up and then go apologize to Dean."

"He won't even talk to me."

"You've never given up on Dean…don't start now," Mackland gently heartened.

But Caleb shook his head, realized that his father couldn't see that gesture. "This isn't about me giving up on him…"

"It is to Dean," Mackland insightfully countered, had known Dean long enough to have a small inkling of what went through the boy's head.

That convicted Caleb, made him realize he was letting his own fear of rejection keep him from healing Dean. "Ok, Ok. I'll talk to him, say all that chick flick stuff I usually don't say to him until he forgives me."

"Good. Now hit the sack."

"And everything will look better in the morning?" Caleb sardonically quipped, could hear the amusement in his father's tone when he spoke again.

"Something like that."

"Thanks Dad. Night," Caleb bade before he disconnected the call, pushed himself off the bathroom floor, staggered to the bed and crashed onto the mattress face first. His last coherent thought before sleep took him was of Dean, of the betrayed look on his friend's face and he vowed that he would make it up to Dean. He would. Any way he had to.

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** TBC**

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	4. Heading for a Heartbreak

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 4: Heading for a Heartbreak

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For it was not an enemy that reproached me, that I could have borne it. But it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and my familiar friend.

~ Psalms 55: 12-13

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"Why did we need to be here at the butt crack of dawn?" Dean asked around a huge yawn, not awake enough to appreciate the breathtaking mountains surrounding them.

Jason outpaced Dean up the embankment and stood on the train tracks, the only sign that civilization even knew this part of the world existed. Throwing his hand out to the right, Jason indicated the suspended train bridge like it was a prize Dean had won. "Train keeps to a schedule."

"We hopping on a train?" The idea of hitching a ride and getting gone was very appealing to Dean.

"Nothing so predictable," Jason promised with a ballsy smile before they heard the whine of a motorcycle engine approaching. The two turned as a dirt bike with two riders came speeding out of a trail nearly overtaken by trees. Turning back to Dean, Jason offered up a devious grin. "Hope you know how to ride a bike or this will get messy real quick."

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At first, it was a dream Caleb was caught up in. A train coming right for him and him suicidally racing toward it, a game of chicken that could end badly for everybody but the train.

The shrill train whistle just barely came to him above the racket of his own heart thudding in his ears. And the train engine's nose was closing in fast… too fast. Would run right over him before he could count to ten.

With a hoarse, terrified shout, Caleb jerked off the bed and toppled to the floor. Breathing hard, his eyes burning and his panic off the Richter Scale. He had only one thought: Dean. His vision was about Dean. Dean playing chicken with a train.

Surging off the floor, he bolted for the door, was suddenly grateful he had been too drunk the night before to undress, to even take his shoes off. But the lights in the hallway were bright, hit his liquor dulled iris' like lasers. But he ignored the pain. His pain didn't matter in the scheme of things. Only Dean mattered. Only saving Dean mattered at all.

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It wasn't the most dangerous thing, not even the craziest thing he had ever done, but it was ranking right up there. Dean revved the dirt bike, eyed up the distance across the train bridge. Goosing the gas until the bike's wheels hopped onto the rail road iron. Stopping the bike, he steadied himself and the bike with a foot on either side of the rail.

"So I have to keep the bike on the rail, cross the bridge and not get pancaked by the oncoming train?" Dean directed at Jason, ignoring the betting going on between Jason's two friends on whether or not he would chicken out and ditch the bike the second he saw the train or get killed a yard down the train bridge. Planning on getting either outcome on the video, the one kid had a video camera carelessly dangling in his right hand.

Jason smiled. "Things shouldn't get handed to us, right? Best success when we use our God given talents, honed instincts and hard won skills. That's my Dad's favorite speech.. minus his cuss words."

And it sounded like something John Winchester would drink to. Course lately, there wasn't much Dean's dad wouldn't drink to.

When Jason stepped away from the other boys, drew up beside him and the revving motorcycle, Dean thought the older boy was going to give him a way out. But instead, Jason offered up words of encouragement that apparently wasn't for the other boys' ears.

"Every hunt we're asked to put our lives on the line, to face the reality that we might die. And we do it….for our Dads, because we think it's the only way to keep their love."

Dean fought down a sick swallow, clenched his jaw instead, didn't want to even let Jason know how down to the bone his words were slashing.

Reaching out and gripping Dean's shoulder, Jason continued with more fervor, "Who says they're the only ones who get to decide how we risk our lives, how young we'll die. That decision ..it should be ours but isn't. Not in the hunt." He gave Dean's shoulder a squeeze. "But this is no hunt, Dean. The choice of why you risk your life, maybe even how you die is yours, right here, right now."

A train whistle brought all four boys' eyes to the forest ahead. Then the train made its turn, broke from the cover of the trees, headed for the bridge, a long string of loaded freight cars following obediently behind it, making it nearly an unstoppable force of nature.

Dean nodded to Jason, watched as the other young hunter cleared the tracks before he re-sighted his attention to the train. Stood there, revving the motorcycle engine, muscles primed to move, waiting for the train to pass the marker Jason had set up down the line which signified Dean's go time.

Dean held his breath as the train careened down the tracks. The nose of the train was about to cross by the marker when a scream of "No Dean!" echoed through the woods. A beat behind the physical call, Dean heard Caleb's unmistakable psychic voice in his head roaring the same command. Then he saw the older hunter on the other side of the train bridge, running toward the train tracks, scrambling up the embankment.

In fury, maybe even panic, Dean put the bike into motion, headed for the train, sped onto the narrow bridge where there was no room to chicken out, to change his mind. Ignoring Caleb's panicked shout of "Dean!", he concentrated on the knowledge that his own survival existed if he crossed the bridge before the train entered it from the other side, if he could clear the tracks before tons of steel smashed right though him and the bike.

With a white knuckled but sure grip on the handlebars, Dean kept the throttle open as he deftly balanced the bike on the rails. Applied the same logic he did to a hunt: Don't think about the million scenarios on how badly things could end up, just concentrate on doing what you're supposed to do, whether it was outrunning, cornering, or going hand to hand with a fugly. You either waited for your target to get in the sweet spot or you simply survived. That was where his world ended and began.

And right then, it was to transverse the bridge faster than a train. Randomly he thought of that stupid algebra question about two trains pulling out of different cities in the U.S, and wondering which one would get where first. But he turned that off, shut out Caleb's internal and external ragings for him to turn back before it was too late. Just bowed lower over the handlebars, tried to lower his center of gravity, to reduce his wind resistance even as he kept the bike rock steady on the rail, the bike's engine close to redlining. And ahead, nearly blocking his view, was the train's unforgiving steel engine, painted neon yellow in case some idiot missed it. It's nose was at Dean's chest level, its railing just above Dean's head and the rest of it towering ten feet over the inconsequential speck daring to be in its way and eating up the distance like it was anxious for the bloodshed.

As Caleb finally crested the embankment, the train engine whooshed by him, the wind nearly sucking him down the track with it. He had to drop to his knees to ensure that didn't happen, helplessly watched as the mammoth creature and its long line of cars barreled toward the bridge, toward Dean. His scream of Dean's name was lost in the roar of the train's warning whistle, of the engineer's horror at the bike and rider in his path.

Then the train rattled onto the bridge, seemingly at the same second that Dean reached that same location. Caleb saw Dean jerk the bike hard to the right and then all he could see was the train barreling across the bridge. Didn't know if Dean's broken body was being crushed under the train's tonnage as he sickly watched or if Dean had made it clear, that once the long line of freight cars passed, he would see Dean standing on the other side of the tracks, unharmed. Cried out in rage and frustration and raw fear and near insanity as he was forced to wait to find out if one of the people he loved best in the world was lost to him forever. "Deuce!" Again the wind of train car after train car stole away his heaving breath and he fought to make it to his feet, to hang onto hope until he knew if Dean survived.

It was an eternity in purgatory until the last car whooshed by, until he could look across the train tracks, could see….Dean standing on the other side of the tracks, the motorcycle at his feet, and his expression…exhilarated, blissful even.

"Woo hoo!" Dean shouted, hands thrown to the sky, head tilted back, the feeling of freedom, of being alive never stronger than at that moment. And he never wanted the feeling to go away, wanted it to stay, to get this high, know this …this contentment every day.

But then Caleb was there, roughly grabbing his arms, jerking him to face him, heartlessly taking away the happiness he just found, that he craved so badly and never even knew it.

"What was that?! You have a freaking death wish?!" Cabel screamed, giving Dean a harsh shake that snapped the kid's head back.

"What's the matter, afraid I'll die when I'm not on a hunt with you, that you'll get screwed out of another reward. I mean, you got your ring when I got sliced up, if I died on a hunt with you…"Dean whistled. "It's endless what you might get. Maybe even that pearl handled .45 in Jim's collection that you've been drooling over for years. But me dying, here," he stretched out his hands, "that would get you _nothing_, wouldn't it."

Caleb was suddenly drowning in fury, but refused to open the flood gates, to drown Dean with him.

Dean condescendingly patted Caleb on the chest. "Better luck next hunt. Maybe you can just wait a few more minutes before closing the trap, pretend you're _trying_ to protect me. That should do the trick. I'll be nice and dead and nobody's burden anymore."

Dean's last sentence…it shattered Caleb's restraints, had his emotions spilling out of him like a tsunami of evil, overriding his instincts to protect, even his love. It was all about fear, about needing Dean to take his words back, needing to _hurt_ anyone who threatened Dean.

Lashing out, Caleb backhanded Dean across the mouth, watched in horror as Dean legs, unable to compensate under the assault, folded, sent Dean collapsing to the ground, blood staining his lips.

Stumbling back from Dean's vulnerable, _hurt_ form, Caleb let out a viscous curse, ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Dean…." But he didn't know what to say after that, watched as Dean got up, defiantly raised his eyes to him, his jaw clenching, waiting for another blow, daring him to strike again. Caleb's eyes, they didn't meet Dean's, stay locked on the blood on Dean's lips, stuck on the fact that Dean was bleeding…and it was _his_ fault. Shaking his head, voice raw like he had been screaming for hours instead of minutes, his tone breaking he warned, "You can't…you can't say things like that. Not to me."

Before Dean could say anything back, Jason was there, racing to Dean's side, hands, gentle hands, reaching out, steadying the younger kid. "Holy crap! You alright?" lifting Dean's chin up, inspecting the cut, before he slid a hand behind Dean's back, started to lead him away. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"No, Dean…" Caleb hoarsely protested, started to step toward Dean, to forestall Dean leaving him. He was stunned to find his way blocked by Jason, a knife pointing at him.

"Back off, man, or get cut," Jason snarled, supporting Dean with one arm and yet still expertly wielding the knife, aiming for Caleb's femoral artery. "I usually reserve my blade work for monsters but guys who hit kids will do in a pinch."

'_Guys who hit kids_,' echoed in Caleb's head, had him tripping back a step, away from Dean, from the unfathomable chance he would hurt him again. '_Not so unfathomable…you hit him_!? _You hit Dean_.' And there wasn't a world, a circumstance, save all out possession and even then…that he ever thought he would do that. _Could_ do it. And his "Dean…" was more a grievous call for someone irreparably departed from him than a plea for Dean to turn around, to stay with him.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, tried to block everything out, knew that Jason was supporting him, not because of the severity of his physical pain, no, what he was… was emotionally shattered. Caleb had hit him…and there was no going back from that. Was no making it better. Just like there was no cure for the way he felt knowing Sam had run away, not just from Dad but from him, of the anger, the blame that his father directed at him for Sam's action, at the reality that, when it came down to it, he had no one, was bitterly alone in the world.

In that moment, he sharply missed his mother like he hadn't allowed himself to in years. Knew that his Mom had loved him, would never have hit him, would never have _willingly_ left him, would not have made Sam his responsibility, or, at twelve, hunting monsters his life's work. She had treasured him, like no one had since.

And it wasn't the seasoned hunter that let the first sob loose but a brokenhearted fifteen year old boy.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	5. All the Wrong Moves

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 5: All the Wrong Moves

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The Lord is near onto those who are of a broken heart, and saved such as be of a contrite spirit.

~ Psalms 34: 18

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At Dean's sob, Jason looked over his shoulder, saw that Dean's douchebag "friend" had already left so he steered Dean to the side of the tracks, sat them both down on the edge of the bridge, their legs dangling over the five story drop. Wasn't surprised when Dean scooted out of his hold, looked away from him, ashamed maybe of breaking down. But Jason didn't leave his side.

Nodding good bye to his two friends as they retrieved their bike and headed back toward the trail in the woods, Jason watched them leave. Looked to Dean and saw the flush to his friend's cheeks, the blood dripping from his lip, the tears still silently slipping down his face. And he knew Dean's backstory, listened to the hunter's talk, even when he wasn't supposed to. Understood Dean's pain better than he wanted anyone to know he did because it was pain akin to his own.

"My Mom died to save me," Jason declared, watched as Dean's head sharply came up, as the red eyes met his. "We were….attacked and…" but Jason couldn't recount the story, not if he didn't want to break down like Winchester already had. Inhaling, he reigned in his emotions, focused on why he had started talking in the first place. But he couldn't look at Dean, not when he confessed this, so he looked down, to the gully and rushing water so far below them. "But I don't want to die avenging her," he quietly bared his dirty little secret, didn't look to Dean, didn't want to see disgust in his fellow hunter's expression. "I know that makes me the worst gutless son ever. And I keep thinking..if I could get over it, you know, that fear of dying. If I could get past it, then I could do whatever I have to do for her…like she did for me."

And Dean didn't know what to say, felt Jason's pain and knew the unbearable weight of loss, of trying to avenge that loss. Couldn't imagine knowing that loss was to save him, that his mother died saving him. It would…make everything so much worse, the hunt so much more….important. And that felt like a betrayal of his Mom, thinking that her dying what's enough to make it important, that she had to die _saving him_. '_She might have saved Sam_,' and that only twisted things worse, because Sam …he wasn't into avenging her death, at all. Felt like Jason did..but wasn't even trying to step up to the plate, to hunt, to find the strength to be the one to give everything for his mother, to honor her sacrifice.

And it made him hate Sam in that moment, that his brother shrugged off that duty and Dean had taken it up, Dean who his mother hadn't died for. "You haven't run away," Dean declared to Jason, knew that was something, was everything. "No matter how afraid you are, you haven't run away. You hunt, have tried to honor her memory, to avenge her death. What difference does it make if you don't want to die doing it. None of us want to die."

Jason nodded, wiped an errant tear away but then posed, "Even if it means freedom? From hunting…from the guilt …the pain?"

Dean honestly couldn't answer that one, knew he should be able to, that dying was bad. But when living was nothing but pain…what was so horrifying about it ending? All of it. So he joined Jason in his silent inspection of the river below them, wished that the current could sweep him away, take him somewhere else, make him into someone else. Fiercely wanted, in that moment, for Dean Winchester to cease to exist.

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Caleb headed back to his motel, couldn't think of where else to go…what else to do. But it wasn't Josh there to ambush him in the lobby this time but Mac.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" grateful and surprised by the man's unexpected presence.

Taking one look at his son, Mackland Ames sensed the edge Caleb was on, that something worse had happened not something better since their talk on the phone. "Let's go to your room, son," Mackland gently suggested, nodding his head toward the bank of elevators. And contrary to his habits, Caleb said nothing on the way there, not in the elevator, not down the hallway and not even in the room after Mac had shut the door and turned to him.

"I take it your talk today with Dean didn't go well," Mackland carefully broached the subject he knew was tearing his son up inside.

That was such an understatement that Caleb's exhale was more hitching sob than anything. And he backed away when Mac worriedly advanced toward him, knew he didn't deserve comfort from his father, not after what he had done. Putting his hand up to ward off his father's approach again, he shook his head, felt like the room was closing in on him. "I can't…."

"Ok, ok," Mackland soothingly conceded. "We don't have to talk about it. I'll order room service and we'll…."

But Caleb couldn't accept the normalcy Mac was offering to him. "Eat dinner and pretend nothing's wrong?" he scathingly charged, angry that Mac thought a dinner, like a good night's sleep, could wipe it all away, his guilt, how badly he had acted.

Mackland had dealt with a Caleb this defensive, this broken before…when he first met him, invited him into his home, left him ransack his heart. So he said what he had then. "You can tell me anything and it won't change how I feel about you, Caleb."

"Wanna bet," Caleb snidely shot back.

"I'll take those odds," Mackland evenly returned, holding his son's gaze. "Just tell me what happened, Caleb. Please."

Caleb's eyes welled and when he spoke, his voice sounded like he had been gargling with broken glass, "I hit Dean."

Mackland's first instinct was to deny Caleb's confession, to tell Caleb whatever injury he inflicted on Dean was by accident, not intent. But something dark and broken in his son's gaze shattered that belief.

"He….he….he was …." Caleb ran a hand through his hair, began pacing the room. "He was playing chicken…on a bike …against a train and…." He shook his head, raised his eyes to his father. "I thought the train hit him. I …when the cars finally passed and I saw him….he was…" Anger flared in him and he wanted to smash something. "He was acting like he won the freaking Grand Prix! And I…it made me so angry. That he thought risking his life…." But Caleb's lips pressed together, held back saying more, continuing.

Understanding how things might have progressed from there, Mackland said without condemnation, "And you argued and you lost your temper."

Caleb didn't agree, explained instead, "I was angry yeah but …he said I wouldn't get a reward if he died and we weren't on a hunt. That if I was smart….or…or…lucky, I could stall on the next hunt, let him get…..killed. Then he wouldn't be anyone's burden. And I…." again his voice went out on him.

"Struck Dean," Mackland finished the story his son couldn't, didn't need Caleb's nod a few moments later to know he was right. Then it was Mac running his hand through his own hair as he realized that he had two distraught boys on his hands, both were his sons, one through legal adoption and the other through heart adoption. Then his legal son abandoned his withdrawn stance, instead came right up to him and asked him to make everything better.

"You have to talk to Dean, tell him how….how sorry I am, that I …I screwed up but it was only because I was terrified. That I almost watched him die and then he's talking about dying on a hunt…" Caleb desperately rambled. "I can plead temporary insanity, something. You can get him to listen to me."

Mackland suddenly felt unequipped to deal with the situation, to live up to his son's opinion of him, to heal Caleb's hurts. "Caleb, I don't know. Dean's not sought me out lately, has always listened to you more than me."

"You're great with kids," Caleb came back with.

Mackland snorted. "Since when? Last time we were at that steakhouse and those kids at the other table…"

"You got through to me," Caleb declared, faith shining in his eyes.

Macklaid said his usually comeback when Caleb thanked him for saving him, adopting him, making him his son. "You were worth it…"

"And so is Dean," Caleb ardently decreed and Mackland knew that Caleb had him, dead to rights, and they both knew it. "Ok, I'll go talk to him but you're coming to."

Instead of a protest, Caleb nodded his head. If Mac got Dean to want to see him, let alone talk to him, he'd forget all about his aversion of emotional scenes and hug his Dad right there on the spot.

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Whatever success Mackland felt when Dean actually opened the door to his entreaties evaporated into thin air at the boy's glare, and that was with Caleb _sitting in the car._ He felt himself wince internally at the cut lip the 15 year old was sporting, proof he didn't need that Caleb hadn't been exaggerating the confrontation between the two young men.

"Dean, can I come in?" Mackland asked, knew it was important to give a traumatized kid as much power as he could. But he should have recalled that he was dealing with Dean here, who might be just a kid but was a maverick at outthinking opponents, even those with medical degrees.

"No, my mom said she broke up with you and she doesn't want to see you anymore," Dean delivered that statement loud and with force and like it wasn't just nine types of crazy as he put his hand on the doorframe, barring Mac's entrance into the room.

"Your….mom…." Mac stuttered, feared that Dean was more injured than he looked, had suffered memory trauma, until Dean winked at him before tilting his head to the right.

Following the teenager's gesture, Mackland saw that there were two senior citizens about to walk past him and they were warily watching him, probably had their hearts set on calling 911 on their Ladybug cellphones as soon as they reached their room. Leveling a warning look at Dean with that his tone matched, Mackland began, "Dean…"

But Dean called over his shoulder, into the _empty_ motel room. "Mom, your boyfriend's stalking you again. Apparently the restraining order isn't scaring him off."

Gritting his teeth and feeling foolish for being manipulated by a 15 year old kid, Mac saw that another younger couple had now paused in loading their car for a day of hiking to watch the scene unfolding. "Dean, I'm just here to help."

Lowly, so no one else heard and it destroyed the scene he was acting out for his audience, Dean hissed, "I coulda used your help when you son used me for _bait_." He bit out a low curse when he saw, behind Mac's back, that Caleb was getting out of the car, stalking forward to join them. He really didn't want to look at Caleb, let alone talk to the jerk.

Having heard Dean's playacting even from his position in the car, Caleb knew his father was out of his league with handling a pissed off, emotionally withdrawing Dean. But when Dean's hate filled gaze slammed into him, he almost retreated too, would have if what he told his dad wasn't true: that Dean was worth whatever war wounds he came away with.

"Dean, we're coming in so suck it up and move aside," Caleb briskly said, knew he had to take off the kid gloves. '_Right, kid gloves, that's what you call backhanding the kid. The 15 year old kid?!,_' he chided and it stopped his head long pace, made it impossible for him to push past Dean, to even touch the kid, in gentleness or otherwise.

But Dean's jaw went up in defiance and he stepped more fully into the doorway. "All I need to do is yell 'help' and the cops and Child Protection Services will get involved," he predicted with quiet menace, knowing how even the _mention _of CPS freaked Caleb, who had been through that scene with brutalizing affects. "Kid alone, no parents or guardians in the residence, it's just the kinda thing that gets a kid tossed into an orphanage. Course I probably will get put into one of those clinics for abused kids…. when they see the scars and bruises." To prove his point, he lifted his shirt to expose his ribs, still black and blue from the hunt, from playing bait for something that liked to play with its food before it ate it. He took some sick pleasure when all the color drained from Caleb's face as his threat sunk in. Mac didn't look too well either when he saw the bruises.

Seizing the winning hand he had dealt for himself, Dean growled, "Now stay away from me." Then he closed the motel door, threw the bolt and put the chain on for good measures. But he stayed by the door, his breath amping up as he waited, hoped that Caleb and Mac would leave, that he could just be left alone.

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It was a sober ride back to the motel, the unmitigated failure with Dean weighing heavily on father and son. "I have to call John, don't I?" Caleb dolefully asked, staring out the side window.

"If you think Dean's endangering his life doing dares and he won't listen to you or I…." Mackland let the rest unsaid, yearned for Caleb to reply with something hopeful.

"The train was…._so close_ to hitting him today and that river stunt…he could have drown," Caleb's voice showcasing how badly both occurrences had shaken him up. But it despaired him, thinking of betraying Dean's trust by getting John involved.

"Do you want me to call John?"

Though Caleb appreciated his father's offer, he silently shook his head. This was his mess, he had to clean it up, make sure Dean came out on the other end of it ok. '_Even if that means Dean wants me out of his life for good_.' And that thought made him want to do his own death defying stunt….right off a bridge like the one Dean had played chicken across that day.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading & reviewing! I'm really loving hearing your thoughts!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	6. Fools Rush In

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 6: Fools Rush In

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The wise in heart will accept and obey orders, but a prating fool shall fall.

~ Proverbs 10:8

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Though conversations with John never quite went the way Caleb foresaw them, this one really went off the rails. No pun intended.

"You better be calling to tell me that thing's dead or I'll have you scouring the forest for it 'til you find it," was John's conversation starter, and it soured Caleb's gut because it just drove home how perceptive Dean was. That John's son had understood that this whole hunt, Caleb's desperation to take the fugly down, to use Dean as bait, it had a lot to do with seeking John's praise, to not disappoint his mentor. '_Sure, don't disappoint John…just get his son nearly killed._' Because he hadn't thought the danger to Dean had been close, that he had intervened, like some hero, way before Dean was ever in jeopardy…but Dean's bruises today…told him how wrong he had been. About everything lately.

"I used Dean as bait," Caleb confessed, thought it was the best launching board he had, to make sure the blame for Dean's actions began and ended, not with Dean, but with him.

"And you put it down," John concluded, pride in his tone. "Youth and emotional stresses…guess Bobby was right."

John's pride, John's callous opinion that using Dean as bait was a sound decision only made Caleb more disgusted with himself, that he wanted to be more like John. "I used your son as bait and I didn't tell him. What part of that sounds like something you should be Ok with?! Let alone have you proud of me?!"

"Dean's not hurt, I would know if he was by your voice," John tersely observed, as if Caleb's snit was unjustified if Dean was still breathing.

Stunned, Caleb realized, "That's all that matters. He's right. It's all about victory and who cares if he gets hurt."

"You want to tone down that judgment five notches. This was your plan, not mine. Ahhhh," John drawled as he figured it out. "Dean's pissed at you for a change, instead of me. Not so nice being the responsible one, is it."

At his mentor's taunt, Caleb felt his eyes burn, rubbed at them before he hoarsely said, "Responsible….yeah. I was responsible for putting him danger, for ….breaking his trust in me…and for…for whatever he does next."

"Does next?" For the first time, trepidation had crept into John's tone.

"I think you should get here." Caleb didn't even care if there was a desperation to his statement, wanted someone to come and stop Dean, to make sure the kid lived to see sixteen.

"You didn't say he was hurt…"

"He's not but…"

"Everyone just ordered me to spend time with Sam so he doesn't….." John quit before he said 'r_un off again_' but he didn't have to. Caleb was there when John got a dressing down from Pastor Jim and Mac about working things out with Sam, making sure his son didn't run off again, this time to somewhere they couldn't find him.

Caleb heard John's exhale through the line, his weariness of body and soul peeking through. "Now you're telling me you can't handle Dean just because he's _mad at you_."

"It's more than that, John!" Caleb knew John didn't respond well to high emotions so he drew in a breath but it only came out shuddering, as did his next words. "He's pushed me away…Mac too."

"Mackland's there? Kid, you've already got more backup then you should need."

"I'm not talking _backup._ I'm talking about Dean needing his father, needing _you_!"

And it was a terrible thing, to need to be in two places at once. John had felt it before: when he just _had_ to save Mary, get her off the ceiling and yet, baby Sam needed rescuing. And then Dean came, was a boy of four but was suddenly his anchor, was there to take Sam, to save Sam allowing John to try and save Mary. And that's what Dean had been ever since, his stop gap, his anchor, the person he could trust to pick up the pieces, even when those pieces were his father's too fragile psyche.

"Whatever emotional funk he's in, he'll get over it," John said with confidence because that was who Dean was, the strong one who held their family together. "Besides, you screwed him up, you fix him, junior," and then he hung up before his resolve faltered, before he truly comprehended what a lousy father he was on all fronts, before he thought what he always thought when the weight of parenting was overwhelming him: "Mary I wish you were here" and "Please forgive me for screwing up our sons."

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROS**

Stabbing "end call" on his cell phone for the sixtieth time as Dean's voice mail kicked in again, Caleb wished he wasn't too terrified to go to Dean's motel again, was more confident that Dean wouldn't bring CPS down on his own head just to spite him. But Caleb couldn't risk calling Dean's bluff, wouldn't put Dean through the emotional ringer of being a victim of the callous system devised to protect children only to hand them over to sadists who only knew how to hurt the weak.

He was in the middle of his sixty fourth redial when he sensed the vision coming on and he was already terrified of what it would tell him. As he dropped to his knees, his Dad was suddenly there on the motel room floor with him, his hand comfortingly on his back, trying to anchor him to what was real. Then the vision took him, ripped him from whatever security he had and shredded it all to pieces.

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He was on a rickety hand bridge that spanned a mammoth gorge and below was water, again, with the freaking water. But this time…the height was dizzyingly high and he knew, to fall was to die, that the water below would not break a fall. Would decimate anything…anyone falling from that height. As he moved forward, feet testing weather worn boards, the bridge swayed, nearly flipped over entirely until he crouched down, settled the rocking with a low center of gravity. Only stood up when it was in no jeopardy of trying to flip again. Moving forward, he noted the missing boards ahead, had to do a little leap to clear them and he braced for the landing, the bridge seeming to sink as his weight hit it. But the ropes held.

And he could see the other side of the gorge now, that Jason was there, waiting, big adrenaline smile on his face. Had already mastered this stunt. ( Caleb spared enough of his terror to hate the kid at that moment – for getting Dean to do this, to risk his life for a thrill. And it was in that moment, when he had stepped outside Dean's prospective, sent that spike of hatred to Jason, that everything went wrong. He was jarred back into Dean's headspace…just as the bridge's right rope frayed away, sent the bridge and its occupant free falling to the water and rocks below.

"Dean!" Caleb screamed, suddenly jerked from the vision, from seeing what came next. He was nearly hyperventilating. It was only his father's "Take a breath Caleb, take a breath," that got him to do just that. Then he turned wide eyes onto his Father. "Dean…he falls, Dad. He falls..the bridge…."

Bracketing Caleb's face with his hands, Mackland gently but stridently instructed, "It didn't happen yet, son. It didn't happen yet." Waited until Caleb swallowed, gave a nod before he released him, dug out his own phone and started dialing Dean's number.

Psychically, Caleb sought to connect with Dean. Sensing his surrogate little brother's living essence, he felt only slightly less nauseous. Through their connection he begged Dean to not do what he was about to do and, though Dean wasn't a psychic, his blatant refusal came back to Caleb loud and clear. Cursing, Caleb knew what he was about to do, the lines it would cross, the possible consequences to Dean…but weighted against Dean being dead…none of it swayed his decision.

**SNBROSNBROSSN**

They're making the climb to the bridge Jason was jonesing to cross when Dean felt the intrusion, Caleb's thoughts pressing against his mind, insistent to be heard. And he heard…and sent back his own message. '_Shove it, Caleb. What I do is none of your business._' Felt almost proud of himself when Caleb's anger came back at him, knew he actually sent his message and didn't even need any freaky powers to do it.

But his smugness lasted only a few more steps…until his head felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. Pressing his palm to his forehead, he let out an angry yelp of pain even as he forced himself to continue walking, to not let Caleb play dictator on his off time like he did on a hunt. But the pain increased, had him stumbling. Jason caught him before he landed on the ground.

"What's wrong!?" Jason worriedly asked, carefully settling Dean down to kneel on the ground.

"Caleb's…trying to …" Dean bit out before he gritted his teeth, sent back a mentally snarled threat to Caleb. Ignoring the blood he felt trickling out of his nose, he tried to get to his feet. Everyone thought they had the right to decide on what or for whom or how he risked his life. And he was sick of it. His loyalty hadn't gotten his Dad's attention, Sam's devotion or Caleb's respect. Had just gotten him bloodied and bruised and alone.

Beside him, Jason was digging through his backpack. Dean didn't know he had brought anything out of his bag until he felt the older boy slip something over his head, something that fell lightly on his chest, over the amulet Sam had given to him. And the pain…. .Stopped. Agony to nothing.

"Mojo bag," Jason explained, tapping the little bag now dangling at Dean's chest. "Keeps the snoops out."

Sagging against a boulder, Dean hung his head and wiped the blood from his nose.

"Guess your babysitter really doesn't want you doing this bridge today," Jason quietly said, a little shaken at seeing just how far Caleb Reaves would go to try and stop Dean from this particular stunt.

"I don't give a crap what he wants," Dean growled, pushing to his feet and leading the charge, more determined than ever to cross the hand bridge, to defy death _and_ Caleb.

"Maybe we should do it another day…you know, when your head wasn't about imploded?" Jason suggested lightly, true concern for Dean in his tone.

But Dean didn't respond or stop his relentless pace to reach the gorge. Would later think that he rushed to his own funeral, when the rope frayed, the bridge flipped right and sent him plummeting to earth without a parachute.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading & reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	7. Without a Net

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 7: Without A Net

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Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.

~Psalms 37:24

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One moment, Caleb's hardwired into Dean and the next that connection is just…._gone._

A piercing cry of utter despair burst from Caleb, vibrated through the room like an explosion, stopped Mac's heart. But Mac was moving anyway, was grabbing Caleb as his son lurched from the floor, grief and terror distorting his features as he lunged for the door, to escape, to not know what he knew. And Mac could barely hold him back, grabbed at waist and shoulder and the back of his son's neck, pulling his son into his arms, against his body, trying to hold him, to put down his struggles. But Caleb was keening by his ear even as he tried to push Mac away, to break free.

And into this insanity…a cell phone rang. Caleb's to be exact.

**SNBROSNBROSNBROS**

Dean was no stranger to staring death in the face, of facing down a monster whose strength beat his own ten fold. And he always had a backup plan, always had some reserve strength tucked away somewhere in his soul, always put up a fight. This time was no different. Even as he was falling, he was scoping out other solutions, was refusing to accept this as his last hurrah, was reaching out…and snagging onto the strand of rope dangling from the bridge.

But his weight had the rope shearing away from the bridge, sent him swinging on a pendulum, Tarzaning toward the gorge wall made of unforgiving granite. Looking below, he saw that the wall, ten yards down, would ease out into a gradual slop of muddy terrain. And right then, mud trumped granite as far as landing pads went. So inches from the wall, he did the craziest thing…he let go of the rope.

Then he was free falling.

Until he impacted, back first, onto the muddy slope. It knocked the breath clean out of him. Then he was caught up in an uncontrollable mud slide down the west edge of the gorge, was rushing by and through the scant vegetation the last flood hadn't totally cleared away. Only to end up…getting deposited right into the gently moving river like the most awesome water slide known to man.

He plunged under the water, came up moments later, ears a little water logged, his body scratched up and aching but he was undeniably alive. "Yeah! I wanna do that again!" he shouted, loved that his voice echoed back to him. That the world heard him and acknowledged him right back.

**SNBROSNBROSSNBROSSN**

Shoving his father back with almost super human strength, Caleb frantically dug into his pocket for his phone, answered with a voice fractured by the emotions drowning him. "Dean!?"

But it wasn't Dean's voice that answered him but Missouri's. "Caleb, he's not dead. Dean falls..but he doesn't die. You hear me, Dean isn't dead."

**SNBROSNBROSSNBROSSN**

When Jason dropped him back off at the motel, Dean knew he was gonna draw looks, what with him still doused in mud, his hair plastered to his head, him bleeding on all four limbs and a little on his cheek. '_Least it's just my blood I'm sporting_,' he thought. '_Not some monsters…not the blood of someone I was supposed to save_.' Just his blood, no one else's, it was all he was accountable for now.

But his honed instincts hadn't shut down and he could sense something wasn't right about his room. And if he was just a normal, pimply faced teenager, he'd run to mommy or daddy, maybe call the motel managers…or the cops. However, he wasn't that lucky. Whatever waited for him, it was his to handle. Which was why he pulled his knife from his boot before he slid the key into the door's lock and kicked the door open.

And saw that it was just Caleb breaching his perimeter. The twenty three year old was sitting on his bed, his head bowed, apparently waiting to emotionally ambush him.

"Get out Caleb," Dean lethally ordered, hand pointing to the parking lot, like Caleb was one of Pastor Jim's dogs trained to listen to such verbal commands. It did, however, get Caleb's head to come up, for his former best friend's eyes to rest on him. Dean tried not to react to how bad Caleb looked, his eyes red-rimmed, his pallor sickly, his chic stubble almost crossing into beard territory. Didn't know if Caleb looked like that yesterday and he just didn't see it. But Dean hardened his heart. '_If he feels guilty for using me for his own ego trip, for trying to fry my brain today ...good. He should_.'

"What? You wanted to see the pain you can put me in up close and personal," Dean bitterly challenged, stepping into the room because '_screw Caleb'_, he wasn't going to run scared from him. But when Caleb stood up, Dean took a step to the side, put the table between him and Caleb, though he knew that wouldn't do a jack bit of good if the psychic used his powers on him again.

Caleb's breath hitched as he noted Dean's defensive move, a move that proved that Dean thought he'd hurt him again. Voice so raw it sounded like he'd been immersed in a smoke filled room, Caleb said, "I…I shouldn't have done that."

"Fry my brain, backhand me or use me as bait," Dean snarked back because even afraid, his nature was to antagonize, to put up a fight.

"All of it," Caleb choked out, would have never believed he was capable of any of that against Dean, let alone all three.

"Good to know. Now get out." And Dean headed to his bag on the nightstand, started rummaging through it like his unwanted guest was already gone. Jerked his arm away when Caleb made a grab for it.

"You have to listen to me," Caleb stressed, knew he needed to get through to Dean, stop the kid's reckless behavior before what he feared happened today came true.

With a voice colder than Caleb had ever heard from the kid, Dean decreed, "There's nothing to say. We're done."

"Dean, no …"

"We're done!" Dean shouted, throwing his bag across the room, his breath puffing out of him as he stared down the older hunter.

And as much as Dean was trying to come off as an adult, able to make his own decisions, Caleb was hit with how young Dean looked right then. Of the bloody scrap on his cheek, the blood peeking out between the mud and blood on his torn shirt and jeans, the fact that even in the minimal space of the room, Dean's motions were careful, spoke of aching muscles, a right leg that twinged pain when he put all his weight on it. It was irrefutable evidence of what happened to Dean after Caleb's vision cut out, after the bridge collapsed. Of the miracle it was that the kid was standing in front of him instead of his body being dredged out of the river. The question came out of Caleb full of heartbreak and fear, "What are you doing to yourself, Dean?"

Knowing Caleb's eyes were drawn to the blood his face was sporting, Dean used the back of his hand to wipe it away, only ended up smearing a red swath across more of his cheek. "I know you're pissed you can't claim all this came from you," yanking on his ripped shirt to prove his point.

Choked, Caleb began, "Dean, I didn't mean…didn't want to…."

Dean didn't let him finish. "You know what they say about actions speaking louder than words. You, Sam …Dad, you're all spelling things out for me but it's taken me until now to get it. Proves how stupid I really am, doesn't it," bitter self-hatred in his tone.

Instantly Caleb defended Dean, "You're not stupid, Deuce! And..what things?"

"How far down I am on the who-gives-a-crap list. Funny thing is…Sammy and Dad…they've always been pretty vocal how _little_ what I want matters to them. But you.." Here he gave a humorless chuckle. "I actually thought you had my best interests at heart."

Taking a step closer, Caleb declared, "I do!"

Dean pointed to his cut lip, the bruises on his jaw line, damage Caleb's backhanded slap had done. "Really?" Dean angrily goaded.

Caleb swallowed down his emotions, stuffed his guilt away, knew it wasn't about him, about how torn up he was inside over his actions, was about Dean, about healing Dean. "I screwed up. You were right…I wanted John to be proud of me. But I never…."

Dean didn't wait to hear what he said next. "Sam wants to piss Dad off and you want to worship him and I'm the one that gets hurt in the process. And Dad…he eats it up, is proud of Sam's spirit and your blind allegiance. Me, he barely knows I'm alive..until there's a hunt he needs me for."

It was automatic for Caleb, to protect Dean, to denounce hurtful beliefs…even …maybe _especially_ when they had a ring of soul decimating truth to them. "Dean, that's not true." And though he didn't think Dean would welcome his hand on his shoulder, he didn't expect Dean to roughly shove him backwards with surprising force for a fifteen year old.

"You're gonna love telling this around the campfire. How the Knight's kid is a whinny baby, can't get his Daddy's approval or even be someone his brother and best friend can stand to be around," Dean growled, cursing himself for saying the things he had, for opening up, for not remembering Caleb was no longer on his side, maybe never was. Not if the choice came down to John Winchester's respect or Dean's friendship.

"Enough!" Caleb shouted, felt a little ashamed Dean flinched at his tone. "That's not how I see you or how Sam does."

But Dean was done swallowing down the lies. "For once in my life…I'm going to do my own thing and you're not stopping me."

"_Own thing_?!" Caleb repeated with disapproval. "You mean seeing if you can break every bone in your body or…or" But his next words, they invoked memories of his vision that day, of the terror of thinking he had lost Dean for good, couldn't be said without his emotions shining through. "Or kill yourself."

The worst thing was, Dean didn't deny his assumption.

"Either way, it's none of your business." Dean retreated back another step to the night stand. "I want you to leave, right now or I'll call the cops myself." Because that was still the best leverage he had, Caleb's fear. (And part of him knew it was Caleb's fear _for him_, his worry for him but he tramped that down, was too hurt to have that matter.) He went as far as picking up the motel phone.

"Dean, just calm down. We both know you won't do that," Caleb quietly, even gently said, almost hated to call Dean out on his bluff, to weaken the kid but desperate times called for callous moves. '_Like trying to "fry his brain" yeah, your methods are really working out well,_' he couldn't help but chide himself. Realized that this wasn't going to be the time he got it right, not when Dean freaking dialed in a phone number.

Caleb didn't leap for the phone because, the number Dean dialed, it's wasn't short like 9-1-1. Knew if he reacted, Dean won so he stood there, tension humming off him. But his blood froze in his veins when the call apparently went through, when Dean started talking…to his school guidance counselor, the one Dean said was pressing him about how he got the cut on his face a month ago.

Too late Caleb recognized that Sammy wasn't the only actor in their group, the only "ttthhespian" as they teased Sammy for being, when they needed someone to pull out the big eyes and tears. To emotionally con someone to get something they wanted.

"Mr. Hall, you said…you said… I could call and talk," Dean let his voice dramatically tremble for the sake of the person on the other end of the call even as his eyes held not vulnerability but smug confidence as he met Caleb's gaze, saw the fear cross Reaves' features. "Anytime I needed to…well I need to."

Caleb knew if he took the phone from Dean, hang up the line, if he grabbed the kid and shook him like he wanted so badly to, if he even said one word…Dean's guidance counselor would make the call for Dean. Would think the kid was in danger and send 5-0 to the motel, to come to Dean's rescue…to haul the fifteen year old off to someplace "safe".

But Caleb couldn't make himself leave, to let Dean's self-destruction continue even as he knew he couldn't stay, couldn't even pull the kid into a hug because Dean would take his advance as a threat, couldn't speak because the guidance counselor would hear. And he couldn't chance even sending a message psychically, not after the way he had violated Dean earlier with his powers. But he needed a gesture to say everything he had been trying to say all along.

The guidance counselor was rambling on about how it was good to talk about things, that he was a good listener but Dean's full concentration was on Damien, was waiting for his ex-BFF to make his counter move. Watched in disbelief and confusion as Caleb slowly took off his Brotherhood ring, the ring that Caleb valued above nearly all of his worldly possession, treasured almost as much as he did the Brotherhood membership and members it represented.

Holding Dean's gaze, praying that Dean understood what he was trying to say, what his actions signified, Caleb sat the ring down on the kitchen table, saw the crease of more confusion that marred the kid's mud streaked face. But he couldn't stay and explain it, only had that silent gesture to convey what he was willing to give up to get the younger man's love back. Then he walked out the door, prayed that Dean didn't say the wrong thing to the counselor and get himself hauled off by CPS. That he'll have tomorrow to try again to make amends with Dean, to get his little brother back.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	8. Kindred Spirits

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 8: Kindred Spirits

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Let brotherly love continue.

~ Hebrews 13:1

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

The drive back to the hotel, Caleb couldn't get Dean's cut lip, his bruised jaw out of his head, couldn't believe his hand had done that damage to Dean. That he had hurt someone that he loved as fiercely as he did Dean. Because he what?! Flipped out when he thought Dean had died, or worse, when Dean acted like Caleb would be glad if he did die, would relish getting some kind of reward. Yes, Caleb had reacted out of anger, but mostly out of something more terrifying than fear: love. Did that mean he loved Dean _too_ much?! Could and would justify any actions he took to not lose him?

'_Even hitting him?_'

Caleb's one foster father, hadn't he claimed the same?! That he _cared about him_ enough to not spare the rod, said that as he beat the crap out of him. Hurt him in order to save him, because he valued him. '_Who's the monster now?!'_ Caleb screamed at himself, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. His psychic thing, that could make him a monster, if it was misused, abused, he fought against that every day but this, love making him go darkside, that wasn't something he guarded against. '_Yeah, and today you crossed the monster line on both counts when you mentally hurt Dean to stop him from going on the bridge.' _

Maybe Dean was right, maybe the best thing he could do for him was to leave him alone. Drop out of his life, once this was all over, so he never risked hurting him again. But even as he thought it, Caleb knew he couldn't go through with it. Dean was his _brother_, in all ways but blood. He'd never survive severing their ties, of carving out three fourths of his heart, the part Dean resided in. Wouldn't be enough of himself left to salvage. '_Selfish, Reaves. Real selfish_.' But like Mac told him time and again, he was a survivor …and that meant he clung onto the good in his life with everything he had.

So he couldn't lose Dean, he just couldn't.

**SNBROSSNBROS**

Mackland didn't need to ask if Caleb had made any headway with Dean, could read his son's despair the second he laid eyes on him. So he didn't admonish his son when he headed for the cash bar, made his selection and sank onto the end of his bed.

Taking a seat beside him, Mac watched his son swallow down half the little bottle of alcohol, silently took the bottle from his son…and finished it off. He would have laughed at his son's stunned expression, if he didn't feel as miserable as Caleb. "At least when I was trying to earn your trust, you gave me an opening here and there to see behind your wall and you weren't being self-destructive. But Dean…."

"Is shut off in ways I never was, never had to be," Caleb reasoned, felt almost guilty for not being as emotionally scarred as his best friend.

Sensing that guilt, Mac put a hand on his son's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Caleb, we each handle emotional traumas in different ways. I found a way past your pain…we just have to find a way past Dean's."

"Pain," Caleb quietly repeated. "I'm the one hurting him. I hit him after his motorcycle stunt and I …I tried to stop him from going on the hand bridge…" Here he looked to his father, confessed what he hadn't before, "by psychically connecting with him….hurting him."

Mac's face blanched. "Oh, son."

Cringing under Mac's disapproval, Caleb surged to his feet, paced away. "I'm just like him," he raged, wanting to throw the chair, smash the tv, probably would have if his father wasn't there, making him responsible for his actions.

Chastising himself for passing judgment on his son, Mac made sure his inquiry was quiet, indulgent, "Like who?"

"My Dad, my real one," Caleb spat, spinning to face his adopted father, his eyes just daring Mac to deny what he had to accept, they both had to accept.

That startling statement had Mac coming to his feet, grabbing onto his son's shoulders. "Caleb, whatever comparisons you're making…."

"He wasn't strong enough to not kill my mom. And I…I wasn't strong enough to not hurt Dean. And I wasn't even frigging possessed at the time!" he shouted, pushing Mac away as he stalked for the door, couldn't stay but found he didn't want to go through the door either, to be alone. His back to Mac, he choked out, "Dean's the last person…"But then his words caught in his throat and he spun to face the man he fiercely loved as a father. "I mean…I wouldn't ever want to hurt you …or anyone in our group but…"

Mac nodded in total understanding. "Dean's special to you. I know that, son."

Mac's forgiveness, it was almost Caleb's undoing. It took him a while before he could speak. "Dean's got enough pain and scars, physical and emotional, he sure didn't need more…didn't need another person he loves to betray him. _Me_ especially."

"Caleb, Dean's…."

Caleb ruthlessly cut across his father's excuse. "Don't you dare say he's strong! I know how strong he is but he's only fifteen years old! He shouldn't have to be strong, shouldn't be nursing bruises and a cut lip from someone he trusted."

Mackland opened his mouth but didn't know the words to say, how to undo the harm that had been done, not only to Dean but to Caleb as well. Because some actions, they couldn't be wiped away with words.

Retreating until his back came up against the hotel room door, Caleb slid down to sit on the floor. He raised anguished eyes to his father. "He'll never forgive me. I…I blew it. Everything we had, what he was to me." He bowed his head, bracketed his hands behind his neck. "I wasn't meant to have a little brother and I should have never…" he shook his head and when he spoke again, his voice cracked apart, "tried to make Dean play that part. It was so selfish of me."

Caleb startled as a hand fell onto his drawn up knees, as he saw his father was crouching in front of him, his eyes pained and offering him compassion. "Selfish?! Caleb, it was the most selfless thing you ever could have done. You've been hurt too, son. In a lot of the same ways Dean has and that's why you've always been able to reach Dean when none of the rest of us could. He lets you see his pain when he'd never show John…or Sammy. He knows he doesn't have to be the perfect son or the perfect brother, can be himself, can be vulnerable with you because he knows you won't exploit it. And that's something he treasures, Caleb. Even through all this, you're still the one he opens up to. All I could get out of him was his granite wall of invincibility, but the second you joined me at the motel door, he sparked with emotions, with life."

Reaching out, Mac cupped his son's face. "I know things seem hopeless, that you've done things you wish you hadn't but cutting yourself off from Dean, from someone you love like a brother, who you've protected with your own life, that's not going to help Dean. Or you. If I walked away from you the first time I hurt you with some thoughtless words about family, you would have been back in foster care the first week I had you."

That muted Caleb's protest.

"If we bailed on family the second we hurt each other, no family would stay together. But family is about caring enough to stick around, to be humble enough to say sorry, to love someone enough to heal the hurts we cause or someone else caused. And Dean's got family here, with you. With me. But I..I'm the unapproachable uncle, but you're his _brother,_ Caleb. A brother he knows loves him, regardless of all the stuff that's gone on between you two. And he needs you, not John, not Sammy, right now. Because he is hurting, because he is lost and he's seeing if anyone notices or cares if he's gone. And you've noticed, you've cared. You've unmistakably protested his reckless actions," Mac said with a little chuckle and Caleb couldn't believe he gave a half sob, half chuckle back at Mac's reference to him hurting Dean.

"Yeah, his face is proof of my protest." Then he pulled his Father into his arms and hugged him hard. "Thanks for never giving up on me."

"Best decision I ever made," Mac replied, before he let Caleb retreat back from him. Noticed something for the first time as his son ran his hand through his hair. "Caleb, where's your ring?"

Caleb rubbed the space on his finger where his ring should be. "Took it off…." But then he sighed, confessed as he met his father's gaze. "Left it with Dean."

And because Mackland was super smart, it took him less than five seconds to make the connection. "To prove to Dean that you're choosing him over the Brotherhood."

Caleb nodded, didn't know how Mac would feel about that choice but his father's face didn't contort into a scowl but expressed pride in him. "I introduced you into the Brotherhood to give you a family, to give you a place to be yourself, to use your gifts. Dean's given you all that, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, he has," Caleb admitted. "If push comes to shove, I'm always going to choose him over the Brotherhood. I'm sorry if that …"

"Don't be sorry, Caleb. Be proud…like I am of you," Mac declared.

"I just want Dean to be ok, that's all I want."

"I know, Son. I know." And as much as Mackland wanted to promise Caleb everything would be ok, that Dean would make the right choice, that things wouldn't get worse, he didn't. Had learned a long time ago when he was just a resident doctor that it only caused more pain when you made promises that were out of your hands to keep.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	9. Save Me From Myself

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 9: Save Me from Myself

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Do thyself no harm.

~ Acts 16:28

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Dean had slept like crap and it had nothing to do with the aches and pains of his fall the other day, or even what his guidance counselor had said about him not deserving to be hurt and if someone was hurting him, he should tell him so he could stop them, had gone as far as promise to make him '_safe_'. As if the guy had a chance in a billion of granting that wish, had a single _clue_ what Dean needed saved from.

No, all that crap he could suppress. After all, he had done it the last eleven years of his life.

But the friggin' ring…Damien's ring. Wait, no, _Caleb's_ ring, because 'Damien' was an endearment and 'Caleb' wasn't. That ring, the one on his nightstand, the one Dean paced around last night until he hesitantly picked it up like he thought he'd get struck dead touching a ring he had yet to earn. A symbol of bravery and unity, valor and fearlessness, of brotherhood. A ring Caleb never took off. Ever.

'_Until last night_,' Dean corrected, reaching out from under the bedcovers and spinning the ring on the nightstand. He watched as the silver glinted in the sunlight peeking through the room's curtains. Wanted so badly to believe Caleb leaving the ring behind meant something, something good not bad. That Damien…Caleb wasn't saying, 'screw you and the whole Brotherhood' but something else entirely like 'I choose you over the Brotherhood.'

'_But that's lame and stupid and so not what Caleb meant,' _Dean chided himself, slapping at the spinning ring and sending it pinging onto the floor. Then he sat up, grabbed the phone from the cradle and called Jason. He wanted an adrenaline rush to shut out the thousand thoughts bombarding him, wanted clarity and freedom. Wanted to forget who he was, _what_ he was: a brother, a son, a friend…a hunter.

So when Jason answered the phone he taunted his fellow junior hunter with "So, are we taking it to the next level or do things get boring from here?"

Sounding groggy with sleep, Jason slurred, "Dean? Crap, it's like a school day…and barely daybreak."

"Danger waits for no man," Dean crowed.

Jason chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. "Yeah, ok. There's been something I've been working on for the past month or so. I'll pick you up in two hours."

"You know where to find me." Then Dean hung up the phone, almost stumbled into the table when a spasm of pain shot up his leg when he stood up. Rubbing his thigh, he limped toward the bathroom, hoped the warm water of a shower might loosen some of his stiff muscles.

The shower, however, wasn't the miracle cure he needed. He had stood under the spray and winced as it peppered his back, which, by the bathroom mirror, he could see was one big bruise from his shoulder blades down to his butt. And exiting the bathroom to see the phone message light blinking wasn't improving his day. He told himself that he didn't care who it was or what they wanted.

But a little voice in his head pestered him. '_What if it's Sam?'_

He ruthlessly shot down his affection for his brother._ 'Sam, the brother who ditched you on your watch, had Dad furious with you, who was pissed you helped Dad find him, refused to give you whatever package he mailed to you?_' And that last was just icing on the cake, that he had gotten a box in the mail with an Arizona postage stamp and Sam had ripped it out of his hands with a venomous,_ "You suck. I don't want you to have this." _

So yeah, Dean was passing on listening to his brother tell him all over again how much he hated him._ 'And if it's Dad….Screw him for sending me on a hunt that he probably told Caleb to use me as bait.'_

His journey to his jacket had him crossing paths with Caleb's ring on the floor. Swiping it off the ground, he stomped to the trash can. His hand hovered over the bin but he just couldn't release the ring into the depths, instead he pocketed it. Snagging the hex bag on a string off the table, he slid it over his head, was about to slip on his amulet before he remembered how much Sam _sucked_ at the moment. He retracted his hand, let the amulet lay discarded on the table and headed out the door, didn't want to stay in the stuffy confines of the room any longer than he had to.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

"Man, you're walking like you're ninety," Jason greeted as Dean lumbered into the passenger side of his truck.

"Let's just say I have a new appreciation for Tarzan's vine swinging talent," Dean quipped.

But Jason was inspecting his passenger instead of putting his pickup in gear. "You sure you wanna do this today? We can put it off to the weekend."

Dean felt he'd explode if he didn't let off some steam. "Long as it doesn't involve running, I'll be fine."

"No running…..just nerves of steel," Jason promised with a brassy smile.

"Then lead on," Dean grinned back.

** SNBROSSNBROSSN**

It took a little lockpickery to get through the two locked gates but by the time Jason pulled his pickup truck to a stop in the Aerial Tram parking lot, Dean knew the place wasn't just empty because it was off season. The locked gates along the road, the broken signs advertising 'Historic Aerial Tram' and the pockmarked and very empty parking lot spelled abandoned, with a capital A.

Following Jason out of the truck, Dean walked across the parking lot and they stood shoulder to shoulder at the edge, a steep decline of thick forested mountain and overgrown hiking paths dropping below them. Jason turned and pointed to the tram terminal building to their right and moved his finger down to follow the direction of the aerial cables that were overhead and spanned the whole way down the mountain to a matching terminal building at its base. "Come on!" he bid as he jumped over a row of chains across the walkway. Dean mimicked his actions with less agility and a grimace of pain.

Reaching the terminal, Jason made quick work of picking the lock then swung the door open and smiled at Dean like he was welcoming him into his own private amusement park. Stepping by Jason, Dean whistled at the sight of a tram car sitting there like its last passengers had debarked an hour ago. Dean ran his hand over the car's paneling, "She's still in good shape."

"Yup. And I've been rerouting some power for the controls," Jason said, flipping a switch on a control panel and the lights in the terminal hummed on. Flipping another switch and the electric motor that provided propulsion for the tram cables sputtered to life. One more button had the bay doors opening in front the tram, showcasing the magnificent view and the twin cables that made a diagonal journey down the mountain, sometimes hundreds of feet above the tree tops with a few pylons along its expansion.

Eyeing up the cables and tracing them back to the tram car and the pulley boxes, Dean remarked, "Cables look a little rusty. Whole pulley box looks corroded. You really think she'll move?"

With a cocky smile, Jason challenged, "One way to find out."

But it wasn't Dean who made a comeback. "Yeah, not happening," Caleb acidly decreed.

Both boys turned to see the older hunter leaning in the doorway, his stance projecting calm but Dean knew better, sensed the tension in his ex-best friend from across the room.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. Killjoy himself," Dean drawled, leaning against the tram car because two could play at the Joe Cool game.

Abandoning his leaning stance, Caleb stepped into the building. "Funny you should say "kill" because that's what you're about to do: kill yourselves!" his voice rising from sardonic to outraged.

Apparently it was Jason's turn to be a smart aleck. "You got no sense of adventure, Reaves," Jason sneered.

Pointing menacingly at Jason, Caleb commanded, "You shut up!" stepping toward the younger hunter, still held the punk to blame for Dean's actions.

Slipping between Caleb and Jason, Dean snapped, "Leave him out of this, Caleb. You wanna hit someone, you stick with making me your punching bag."

Refusing to back down at Dean's innuendo, Caleb instead took a step closer, his eyes boring into Jason's. "No, you know what, I'm going to take your little friend and beat the crap out of him," then he dropped his eyes to Dean to make his point, "if you don't listen to what I have to say."

When Dean's chin came up in defiant challenge, Caleb started to skirt around Dean. Jason, for his part, was smart enough to start retreating.

Fearing that Caleb's threat wasn't a bluff, Dean grabbed Caleb's forearm, held the older man back from reaching his friend. "Fine. Say what you came here to say then leave."

"Outside," Caleb growled with a jerk of his head before he walked out the door, paced until Dean made his appearance.

Once outside, Dean kept his distance, circled when Caleb shifted, like Caleb was a fugly that had him in his sights, though Dean knew it wasn't an attack he had to be wary of but an ambush. He didn't put it past Caleb, in the mood he was in, to knock him out, throw him over his shoulder and stuff him in his Jeep. What he wasn't prepared for was Caleb's next words to not be threats but a raw apology.

"You don't know how badly I want to take back what I did on the hunt and…and since," Caleb earnestly declared, needed to start letting things out instead of bottling them up. To be the one not cut off from his emotions, to be the one risking everything for someone that he loved.

But Dean recovered from his shock at Caleb's unexpected tactic quick enough, countered it with contempt. "We all have things we want to undo. I want my Mom not to be dead, my Dad to give a crap about me, my brother to want to stay with me and to wake up in the morning and, just _once,_ not have to worry about screwing up so badly that someone dies. But I don't get to have any of that."

Dean's words hit Caleb hard, had him swallowing down his emotions because Dean wasn't all wrong and he couldn't change that for the younger man, no matter what he ever did. "I know."

It wasn't a retort Dean knew how to counter so he paced away, before turning back to Reaves. Shaking the mojo bag dangling at his chest, he demanded, "How'd you find me because it wasn't through any mind meld, not with me wearing this."

"Magnum PI style," Caleb answered, smiling a little at his and Dean's joke about Mac looking like the tv show detective.

"You followed us, huh. Not bad, _Higgins_," Dean shot back, forgetting for the moment that he didn't want to share inside jokes with Caleb anymore. Remembered as soon as Caleb took a step toward him with a smile like they were buddies again. He raised his hand, halting Caleb's intentions to breach his personal space bubble. "What, you think one inside joke and we're good?! Because we're not."

"I know we're not," Caleb somberly acknowledged but refused to give up the ground he had covered getting closer to Dean. "Just…see things from my perspective, Deuce! I'm hardwired to annihilate anyone who hurts you but lately, I'm the one hurting you and you're hurting yourself!" waving his hand to indicating Dean's limp and the bruises and cuts on his face. "And I … I don't…I don't know what to do, how to…to channel all this fear, and anger at myself for hitting you, at you for doing all this crazy reckless crap." He had to stop to draw in a breath before he could continue. "Tell me what I should do, what I should say to stop all this, to stop you from getting in that tram?"

"Nothing. There's nothing you can say." Then Dean went to walk back into the terminal building but Caleb stepped into his path, held his arms out to block him.

Figuring that his wishes didn't matter, Caleb switched gears. "Sam and your Dad wouldn't…."

"Why can't it just be about me?!" Dean shouted, knocking Caleb's hand when it got too close to touching him. "Not what Dad wants or Sam wants or what Mom deserves! What about what I deserve!?"

And Caleb's breath caught because it was the first time he'd ever heard his friend demand something for himself, to not give everything he had to his family, to the hunt. It would be a good turning point if what Dean decided he wanted for himself wasn't a one way ticket to an early grave. Keeping his tone level, Caleb vowed, "I'm here for you, Deuce. Only for you. The only one I came here to save is you."

"I don't need your protection, Damien! Who gives a crap if I'm the Knight's son. I know I don't!"

"I'm not here as a member of the Brotherhood …or a hunter. I gave up the ring, I chose my sides," Caleb said but knew he had to say the rest, had to make sure Dean understood how far he was willing to go. "Dean, I chose you."

"What?!" Dean incredulously shot back, skittering back when Reaves made to reach for him. "No, you…you're playing with me." Digging the ring out of his pocket, he held it out to Reaves. "Take your frigging ring and leave. Try your psychological bullcrap on someone else."

Caleb felt a surge of frustration, didn't understand how his good intentions were getting him nowhere. Knew he shouldn't be shouting back but couldn't calm down enough to do anything else. "Why is it so unbelievable that I'd choose you over the Brotherhood? How many times have I risked my life to save yours?! You know why I call you Deuce?! You're my little brother in every way that counts?!"

"Yeah, and Sam's mine and he ran away, _from me_!" Dean nearly screamed before he growled, "So don't tell me how love conquers all or family forgives anything or….any of that Hallmark crap that has never applied to my life."

Pierced by Dean's pain, Caleb felt his eyes welling, knew that they had reached the heart of what was prompting Dean's reckless actions and yet, he didn't know how to make it all better. "Ok, I can't refute that but Dean, you have people who love you, who would die…and kill to keep you safe. Me, your dad, Sammy, Mac, Pastor Jim, Bobby."

"Safe?" Dean bitterly parroted back. "I've broken more bones, had more bruises and overnighted it in more hospitals than a combat vet sees in five tours. So excuse me if I think you're all doing a piss poor job of keeping me "safe.""

But Caleb wasn't backing down. "Well, you're doing a worse job!" he bellowed, hadn't been able to ignore the stiff way Dean moved, the pronounced limp or the dulled sheen of his friend's eyes, signs of the pain Dean was in.

Dean offered up a brazen smile to Caleb's criticism. "Who said I _wanted_ to be safe? Safe is boring."

"Boring?!" Caleb gritted out between his clenched teeth. "Don't try and tell me these stunts are out of boredom. This goes well beyond getting an adrenaline rush."

"Oh great professor, tell me my true motives," Dean goaded. When Caleb paled and ran a hand over his face, Dean gave a humorless chuckle. "Rrrriiight. It's ok to try and head shrink me as long as I don't call you on your bullcrap."

Emotionally strung out, Caleb felt his walls coming down, crumbling under the strain of talking Dean off the ledge, of being terrified he couldn't accomplish that. It made him bluntly deduce, "You want to hurt yourself. Hurt me…Sammy, John."

"Hurt myself?" Dean disbelievingly repeated. "What, you think this is my version of cutting, that I'm crying out for help?!" he derogatorily challenged.

Caleb exasperatedly swiped away a tear tracking down his cheek. "No, you don't want help."

"That's right, I don't want it and I don't need it!" Dean growled in Caleb's face, went so far as to shove the older hunter and Caleb let him, let him walk by him before he spoke.

"I'm begging you not to do this, Dean," Caleb beseeched, turning around to face Dean's back as the younger man stopped on the door's threshold. "You don't have to do this to prove anything. You're the bravest person I know…I don't need any daredevil stunt to tell me that….and neither does your Dad or Sam."

Dean swiveled around. "You just don't get it. I don't have to do it…I want to. I risk my life on hunts all the time, why can't I risk my life on my own terms?!"

"Because hunting is a calculated risk, with plans and back up and weapons and …and we're saving people. But this…" Caleb flung his hand out toward the tram. "This isn't worth you getting a darn _scratch_ on you, let alone dying?! And if this is about wanting to quit hunting…then just do that. Mac will set you up at my old school and…."

"What fairy tale are you telling yourself?! Dad will never let me go. He dragged Sam back ..and he'd drag me back. I know how my story ends, how it will always end." But Dean broke off, hadn't meant to say any of that aloud.

Fear spiking off the meter, Caleb quickly crossed the distance between he and Dean, latched onto Dean's arms even as the fifteen year old struggled to get free. But he shook him, got Dean's wide eyed attention. "You think you're gonna die hunting? Darn it, Dean! We're all lying awake at night finding ways for that not to happen and, what, you're trying to hurry it along?!"

"No, I'm trying to live a little of my life for myself! To have a say in how I risk my life! To make my own choices instead of the choices everyone's made for me." He broke free of Caleb's hold and the older hunter let him go. "I have done everything Dad's told me to do…been Sam's protector, been your hunting partner. I've given you my all..and it's not enough. It's never enough. So I'm done trying to please everyone else."

"Fine, ok, so tell your Dad no next time he wants you to hunt, let Sam dig himself out of his own screw ups, and you and I'll hang out at a ballpark instead of some forest with a fugly…just…" Caleb's voice cracked on his next words, "don't do this, don't hurt yourself rather than stand up for yourself. Believe in yourself…the way I do, the way John does and Sammy. We depend on you because we know you'd never let us down. But, if you do this, if you get yourself _killed_ doing some…some dare, you'll be killing the best part of me and Sammy and John…of all of us. And I know you're not that selfish."

"Guess you don't know me as well as you think you do," Dean chillingly replied. "This is my choice and you don't get to make it for me, Caleb." Then he turned his back on Caleb, entered the building and shut the door behind him. Left the older hunter standing there alone.

But Caleb couldn't do it, couldn't let this be Dean's choice. Didn't…._couldn't _care if Dean hated him forever, as long as he was alive, the rest couldn't matter. Stalking for the terminal, he went to push open the door…and met un-budging resistance. Put his shoulder into it…with no better results. "Dean! Open this door right now!" he bellowed through the door.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Jason retreated back from the door, turned a cocky smile on Dean as he nodded to the metal pipe he had slid across the door, ensuring Reaves wasn't getting in again. "When I first found this place, they had that pipe over the door, had it locked down nice and tight. But then again, getting into locked places isn't just a ghost trait, is it?" Jason boasted, loved using his hunting skills for things his Dad wouldn't approve of.

Dean stood in the middle of the terminal, jumped a bit when Caleb seemingly used his boot heel to try and kick in the door. Shouted his name, "DEUCE!"

Jason tuned out the melodrama, was busy checking gauges, quietly running down a go-for-launch checklist. Then he turned an adrenaline high smile on Dean. "Ok, hop on board, I'll set this thing and once I'm in and shut the door, the lock will release and it's all down hill from there."

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Utterly failing to crash in the door, Caleb braced his hands on the door, called through the barrier that was keeping him from Dean, maybe from saving his little brother. "Dean, remember that gut clenching terror when you couldn't find Sam, thought someone had taken him..that he was hurt? I've got that but worse…because I know what you're doing, how close you've been to dying, that what you're doing now…it might kill you. And it could Dean. You could die! And if you think losing you is something I can bear…" Caleb's voice went out of him then, his throat too constricted to say more without swallowing ten times. "You and I both know what it's like to lose someone you love…don't put me through that again. Don't let Sam lose his big brother and John his son. Just…don't. Please, Dean. Please."

But only silence came back to Caleb. Cursing, he punched the door and then started to jog around the building, intent on finding another way in, a way to stop Dean, to keep his little brother with him. Found that there was only one door to the joint and the other possible entrance, the opening where the tran would exit, was cordoned off by a security fence that, yes, probably thanks to Jason's work, was now juiced with electricity. And sure, Caleb was a master at B&E, but he needed tools…which he didn't have in his back pocket, could maybe jerryrig something from his supplies in his Jeep but that would mean walking away from the terminal. And doing that, even for two seconds, seemed unbearable.

Out of options, Caleb bolted up the incline and ran for his Jeep. Nearly ripping the door off its hinges in his hurry to get into his glove compartment, he grabbed gloves and wire cutters before digging into his hunting bag in the back seat. With supplies in hand, he darted out of the Jeep's interior and ran pell-mell across the parking lot.

But he skittered to a terrified halt at the edge of the parking lot when he saw the tram car was emerging from the terminal, making its slow….and widely pendulum swinging descent along the severely neglected cables. Heart in his mouth, all Caleb could do was watch …and pray.

And scream when the cables frayed apart and the tram car fell from its lofty heights.

The tram car hit the forest's sloping floor seconds later with a force that shook the ground and splintered the car into kindling.

"NO! DEAN!" Caleb screamed, numbly dropping everything he held and leaping over the lip of the incline, desperate to get to Dean, to save his little brother.

To do what wasn't possible.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	10. Descent

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

**CHAPTER 10: Descent **

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God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

~Psalms 46:1

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

Caleb's frantic descent was more slide than run, the loose underbrush and shale creating landslides under his feet. He didn't really notice the times his feet slipped out from under him, that he had to catch himself on the ground with his hands, barely kept his balance so he didn't fall headfirst down the mountain. And still he didn't seem to be drawing closer to the decimated ruin of the tram car, like some witch's spell was making his objective hopelessly out of his reach.

He never heard his name being shouted, didn't register anything but the tram, could only think of getting to Dean.

It was the familiar, startled grunt of pain that broke through his anguished haze before the echoing shout of "DAMIEN!" reached him, pierced though his wall of grief. Had him skidding to a stop, risking his last vestige of hope to turn around, to look for the only person who called him Damien, the only person he would ever _let_ call him that name.

He almost couldn't believe what he saw: Dean. Face down on the ground in an undignified sprawl a few hundred yards behind him, but his head up, his mouth open, ready to scream his name again when their eyes met.

Dean alive.

Apparently Dean had been trying to intercept him, to stop his reckless descent before he broke his neck, to tell him he wasn't down there when the steep incline and his bum leg sent him crashing to the ground. Leaving Dean only with his voice to stop Caleb, to tell his best friend he hadn't gotten in the tram, had listened to him, that he hadn't lost him.

Caleb's voice didn't tremble, it quaked as he bewilderedly and joyously called out, "Dean?!"

Trying to push himself upright, ignoring the cuts on his hands the shale was making at his efforts, Dean didn't drop his eyes from Caleb's. "I didn't go. I didn't go," seemingly stating the obvious but it was still something that needed to be said, to be understood.

Then Caleb climbed up the mountain like a billygoat, was suddenly there, dropping to his knees and pulling Dean into a desperate hug. Didn't think he had ever felt such shuddering relief, such a reassuring physical contact than the kid's head tucked against his chest. He put a chaste kiss on the top of Dean's head before he totally broke down, couldn't be the tough no-chick-flick guy right then. Not when he thought Dean had been lost to him, not when it had been so close, not when his little brother was in his arms.

It said something that Dean wasn't the one to pull back or make a smart aleck comment, that he lay there in Damien's arms, trembling and spent. Almost protested when Caleb pulled back, held him at arm's length, began his medical examination and Q&A. Caleb's hands seemed to move as fast as the Flash's: lifting Dean's hands, his fingers running over the bleeding cuts, cupping Dean's face, skimming over the new rips in the knees of Dean's jeans only to once again end with his hand cupping Dean's face. "Is anything broken? Ankle, leg, ribs? Any shortness of breath? Did you hit your head?" his eyes examining Dean's for signs of a concussion.

Numbly, Dean shook his head, wasn't hurt, was stunned. Stunned at the sight he caught behind Damien's shoulder…the tram car splintered like one of Sammy's model airplanes, of how he was supposed to be in there, he and Jason both. How his heart twisted when he heard Caleb's scream, watched as his best friend raced to get to the tram car, how he had shouted to Caleb and taken up a hopeless pursuit before the mountain and his leg ganged up on him, had him tripping and sliding down half the mountain. It was then that he put all his fear into his call for Caleb, all his sorrow, all his regrets, all his guilt.

And Caleb heard him. Stopped, turned and didn't look at him with angry censorship for their earlier exchange of harsh words, for his rebellion, but overflowing love and relief. Then Caleb was there, not pulling him off the ground, reaming him out for almost getting himself killed, but crashing to the ground at his side, hauling him, not for a good shaking, but into a hug so hard it almost hurt, but in a good way. Gave him something no adrenaline rush ever could: the sure knowledge that he was loved. That he mattered, that he would be missed if he was gone.

At Dean's negative response to his inquires about his injuries, Caleb did what he wanted to and drew Dean back against him, rested his chin on the boy's head. Saw, for the first time, Jason standing by the terminal door, white as a sheet. His own mortality hitting the sixteen year old hard.

If Caleb could have given a crap about anyone but Dean at that moment, he would have felt sympathy for the Lositros kid. But as it was, Dean was the only one he could think of, the only one he wanted to shelter from the harshness of life, like Dean always tried to do for Sam.

But Dean proved that even Damien couldn't put the genie back in the bottle, that Dean knew what life was, the bitter consequences, the harsh truths, the responsibly he bore, even at fifteen. "We have to get out of here before the cops or park rangers show up," Dean's muffled voice reasoned before the kid pushed himself off of Caleb but Caleb latched onto Dean's arms, wouldn't let the kid go far.

Eyes meeting Caleb's, Dean rationally stated, "We're trespassing, we just defaced a mountainside and destroyed a historic tram car." But then the kid pulled on a smirk. "Any of that goes on my police record and everyone at juvy will think I'm just a small time offender, which will ssssoooo get me beat up."

Caleb couldn't help laugh at Dean's twisted point of view of recent events. "Right, sure. Assault and battery of some trees might get the Arbor group chasing us with pitchforks."

"Yeah, it's the peace lovers you have to watch out for," Dean retorted, finding himself smiling back at Caleb, at wanting to smile, not because he was making his own choices but because he wasn't alone, that there was someone who knew him soul deep. Someone he could have a sparkling conversation, one embedded with his and Caleb's twisted sense of humor.

"Ok, let's get you on your feet, see if your leg will take your weight," Caleb suggested, slipping his arm around Dean's waist as he maneuvered them both to their feet. Dean's leg held, maybe more out of Dean's determination than its physical stability but it held all the same. But that didn't mean Caleb was releasing his hold on Dean or not taking as much of the younger boy's weight as he could when they started up the mountain. Continued to do so as they wordlessly passed by Jason, crossed the parking lot, and reached his Jeep, where he boosted Dean onto the passenger seat against Dean's protests that he could manage the feat on his own.

Only once Dean was safely ensconced in the Jeep did Caleb turn to Jason who had trailed behind them like a lost puppy dog. "You better hope that we make it down to the main road before the cops or rangers come tearing up here to see about the commotion. Now get in your car and get out of here!"

With one shared, miserable look with Dean, Jason spun on his heel and ran for his car, had it rumbling down the dirt road before Caleb could turn on the Jeep's engine. Then Caleb had the Jeep charging down the dilapidated road in the wake of Jason's truck's fumes, couldn't help but shoot Dean a worried look at the kid's silent routine. Grimaced at the kid's pale, bruised features, the wince Dean couldn't cover up as the rough road jostled his abused body, was about to ask Dean if he was Ok when the fifteen year old spoke first.

"So let me have it," Dean said with a heavy sigh, eyes leaving the road ahead to watch Caleb's profile.

"Have what?" Caleb asked, trading his attention back and forth from his driving to his companion.

"The balling out." Then Dean recited some of John Winchester's best cut-you-to-the-quick lectures. "The '_your irresponsibility almost cost lives,_' the 'y_ou put us all at risk with your actions_,' that I'll never deserve a Brotherhood ring if I keep screwing up like this."

Caleb's lips pressed together, hated that Dean was quoting the reprimands from memory, that John had rained such guilt inducing manipulating rebukes down on Dean's too fragile soul. "No balling out…just…" here his fingers tightened on the steering wheel before he faced Dean, "Thanks. For not getting on the tram, for not…getting yourself killed."

But Dean dropped his head in shame, mumbled, "I almost got in the tram. What's worse, I almost didn't stop Jason from going it alone."

Caleb felt his breath hitch in his chest, had to push his next words out like an elephant was sitting on his chest. "Why didn't you go?"

"You. What you said," Dean quietly admitted before his eyes came up to hold Damien's. "No matter how pissed I was at you…I would never want to hurt you like losing your mom hurt you…like losing my Mom hurt me. And Sammy might not remember Mom to miss her personally…but he knows he missed out on something everyone else seems to have. And Dad…maybe he doesn't say Mom's name often but when he does….I know he still misses her…like I do."

Caleb nodded, didn't think he could speak around the lump in his throat. But gestures were fine too, which was why he reached out, tousled Dean's hair and then affectionately cupped the back of the boy's neck. Kept his hand there until he felt the tension bleed out of Dean, until he knew that his little brother was ok, until Dean knew that he wasn't mad at him, was so happy to have him with him that nothing else mattered right then.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Thanks for reading & reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	11. Answered Prayers

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

CHAPTER 11: Answered Prayers

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And all things, whatever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.

~ Matthew 21: 22

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

When Mackland heard the motel room door click open, he put his book down and sat up on the couch, was surprised to see Dean enter the room with Caleb's guiding hand on his shoulder. Wasn't sure what was more astounding, that Dean wasn't wearing a scowl of protestation at being escorted into their motel room…or the youth's worrying array of bruises, ripped and bloody clothing or the limp he couldn't suppress. And though his own son wasn't supporting any outward malaise, there was a haunted look in Caleb's eyes.

Of course Caleb's declaration was wholly unnecessary, "Dad, Dean's hurt," because he was already heading for the boy, slowed his approach when he saw the flicker of uncertainty in Dean's eyes. '_Like he thinks I'm going to lash out at him for how he behaved at the motel, for being disrespectful.' _And that was the last thing Mac had in mind. Stopping in front of Dean but not making a move to touch him, Mac used his gentle tone as he teased, "So, is the restraining order you put out on me lifted or does your fake mom still hate my guts?"

That got Dean's lips quirking into an amused smirk. "She's moved on. Doesn't even remember your name anymore."

"Ouch, that hurts…almost as much as this probably does," Mac compared, gently reaching out to skim his fingers over Dean's bruised jawline.

"Nah…Caleb hits like a girl," Dean downplayed, shot Caleb a look and knew he did something good when his best friend's terse expression cracked, and Caleb ran his hand down his face in a sign of lightened anguish.

Mac quirked an eyebrow at that exchange but kept his concerned focus on who Caleb would want him to: Dean. "Okay, then let's skip all the other '_I'm fine'_, '_I'm not hurt'_, '_Nothing's broken' _dialogue andhave you take a seat on the couch so I can look you over."

At Dean's token expression of objection to medical treatment, Caleb leaned close to the younger boy, gently prodded, "Go on, Dean." Then he led Dean across the room, didn't leave the boy's side until Dean was settled on the couch with a wince. Then Caleb only went a few feet to sit on the arm of the chair diagonal from Dean's position.

In the meantime, Mac had scurried off to his bedroom and was returning with his trusty black doctor's goodie bag. Taking a seat on the low table in front of the couch, he pulled out his penlight, which, according to both Dean and Caleb, was a nasty torture instrument for anyone ever having had their bell rung. Which both of them had, numerous times, once or twice at the same time.

"I don't have a concussion," Dean protested.

Though he gave the boy a patronizing, "Un huh," Ames was actually relieved to get a predictable response from Dean, had felt his concern climbing at the rare meekness. Dean proved he wasn't lying when his examination found the boy's pupils dilated like they were supposed to.

"Alright. Off with the coat and your shirt. Caleb help him," Mac instructed, saw his son immediately jump at the chance to help Dean.

Dean, however, wasn't so excited about the next step. "My shirt….why?" Because, ok, the limp he was doing jack hiding but his bruised up back…Caleb didn't know about and Mac didn't need to know about. But his protest earned him the laser eyed interrogative gazes of Ames and Reaves. "What?! Guy can't be modest?" he grumbled in response to their expressions.

Caleb exchanged a concerned look with his father before he stepped forward and manhandled, albeit with infinite care, Dean out of his jacket. But when he went to pull the shirt over the kid's head, he froze, realized the mojo bag was still hanging around Dean's neck, was still cutting off the reassuring intimate contact he treasured with the younger boy.

Looking down to see what had Caleb paling, Dean paled himself at the sight of the bag, of the proof of how hard he had rebelled against Damien's hold on him. Dean raised a bloody hand to lift the bag over his head but Caleb intercepted him, completed the task for him far faster than he could have managed. With shame and apology Dean turned his face up to Caleb's but his friend's expression was all about worry. Straightaway Dean realized that that the psychic was tuned into his emotions, knew just how craptastic he was feeling.

Reeling a little when his connection with Dean abruptly flipped on, Caleb pressed his lips together, rode out the pain that wasn't his. Was kind of glad he was getting the full 411 now, with Mac ready and willing to patch Dean up, to take the younger man's pain away. And to do that, Dean's shirt needed removed. But his attempt to lift it over Dean's head met resistance, which he trailed down to its source: Dean's hands curled around the hem of the shirt, ensuring it didn't get lifted over his head, and subsequently, so he and Mac didn't get a look at his chest…or his back.

Gut churning at the thought of what Dean didn't want him to see, Caleb crouched down in front of the fifteen year old, didn't want to use force on the kid…had done that too often lately with disastrous results. "Dean, something you wanna tell us?" he quietly asked, didn't like that Dean's gaze was nervously flickering away from his.

And no, Dean didn't want to make this moment into some confessional, wanted his injury to be downplayed, hoped like heck Damien didn't see his back and go on the rampage like they had managed to avoid since the tram went kablooey. Releasing his death grip on his t-shirt, Dean held his breath…for like two second before it came out in a grunt of pain as Caleb jostled his arms over his head to slip the t-shirt off.

At first, Dean thought he was actually gonna dodge the bullet…until Caleb gave up looking at his unmarred chest and circled the couch, where he got a breathtaking view of the roadmap of bruises discoloring Dean's entire back. "Dad," Caleb hoarsely beckoned and Mac came around the couch at his bidding, scowled at the evidence of the pain Dean had to be in, had put himself in.

"Don't make a federal case about it," Dean groused at the unwanted attention, eyes straight ahead and not on the two men ogling his back.

"Dean, how did this happen? Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Mac sharply questioned, always upset when those he loved were in pain when he had the means to ease it. That is, if they bothered to _admit_ something as human as being in pain.

"Dad, don't," Caleb quietly warned, didn't want Dean feeling more vulnerable, to go ducking for the hills after finally letting down his walls.

Dean chose to answer one of Mac's question, though it dripped with smart aleck wit. "I took a ride on an awesome mud slide. Slide needs a little help on the shock absorption before it goes public."

At Mac's raised eyebrow of confusion, Caleb put the pieces together, supplied the translation to his father. "Hand bridge, Dean falling….me freaking out 'cause I thought he was dead…_again_."

Dean's eyes widened at Caleb's recap, knew Caleb wasn't a freak out kinda guy. Was cool under pressure. '_Unless you're in danger. You know this, you know how he feels about you, how upset he always gets when you're in jeopardy of getting hurt_.' And Dean did know, had just buried that truth under his own hurt for so long that Damian caring about him had started to seem like a lie he told himself.

Dean gritted his teeth when Mac's cold hands pressed on his back but didn't make a sound of pain. He knew what Mac would determine: that he didn't have any broken bones, that it was just deep bruising, that he'd have a date with ice packs in the foreseeable future.

"No broken bones or internal injuries," Mac reported as he reclaimed his seat on the table in front of Dean, pulled Dean's bleeding hands onto his lap for inspection. "Cuts don't look deep. Little soap, water, antiseptic, bandaging and they'll heal nicely." Gave the hands in his grip a reassuring squeeze before he released them, felt his heart lighten at Dean's eye roll at his attempt to baby him. "Now onto your leg. Drop your pants, kiddo."

But Caleb called out, "Wait!" as he looked down at Dean from his stance over the boy. "Please tell me you're not in one of your commando stages. I don't want to be scarred for life."

Dean smirked. "Unlike you, I know what modest is and I _like_ underwear," making a show of dropping his pants to show his boxer shorts.

Mac fought the urge to give his son a proud smile, knew Caleb's taunt had been a well-planned manipulation, caused Dean to forego his usual refusal to shed out of clothing, pants particularly. Instead Mac focused on the scraped, bleeding knees and the swelling ankle Dean was sporting. With careful motions, he eased Dean's leg onto his lap and removed the boy's shoe. He prodded the obvious ankle trauma and up the boy's calf and thigh before meeting Dean's noticeably paler features. "It's a bad ankle sprain and some pulled muscles. I think your "mud slide" is a liability nightmare."

"Oh, but what a rush," Dean drawled before he realized the stink eye Damien and Mac were giving him. Fearing that Mac would take that opportunity to lecture him on being reckless, he hastily changed the subject. "Nice accommodations," he drawled, giving he luxury room a once over from his vantage point. "I didn't think this town had anything up to your standards."

"Josh found it. You know he likes to travel in style," Caleb joked but it was strained, could sense his father fighting back the urge to go all fatherly/Scholarly on Dean and deliver the lecture brewing in his head.

Dean's jaw clenched at the mention of Joshua, kind of forgot he had been on the hunt too, had witnessed the whole him-being-bait thing. '_Josh probably thought it was the most useful I've ever been on a hunt._' Clearing his throat he tried to offhandedly ask, "So, he still in town or did he bail already?" Really hoped the older hunter was gone, that he didn't have to worry about running into him, especially now when he looked like roadkill that was backed over five times.

And to prove that Caleb knew what Dean was thinking without even using his psychic mojo, Caleb quietly answered Dean's inquiry, "Bailed…right after he tore me a new one for using you as bait on the hunt."

Dean's shock was obvious. "Thought he would have gotten a kick out of that."

Caleb shook his head. "Was royally pissed at me…and rightly so."

"Huh…maybe he can be my new wing man," Dean drawled but there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Not happening," Caleb growled, knew Dean thought his possessiveness was put on..but it wasn't by much.

Dean merely smirked before he turned his focus back to Mac, who had pulled an ace bandage from his bag. "Does my ankle really have to be wrapped? I can walk on it." Because he wanted to be as mobile as he could be, didn't feel like hobbling around without a shoe for a week or so.

"I think the point is for you to _not_ walk on it," Caleb taunted, enjoyed Dean's glare.

"I was talking to the actual doctor in the room," Dean shot back.

Mac decided it was time to intervene. "And the actual doctor in the room says your ankle's getting wrapped, your hands are getting cleaned and your back's getting iced. Now I'm going for water to clean out your hands and knees and you're staying right here." He gently lifted Dean's leg off his lap in preparation of standing up, but before he could ease Dean's leg back to the table, Caleb slipped into his vacated spot, carefully settled Dean's foot onto his lap. Nodding to his son, Mac headed for the bathroom, grabbing the ice bucket along the way.

"Once Mac's had his wicked way with you, you can sack out on my bed for a while," Caleb suggested, wasn't all that surprised when Dean protested, though it wasn't in the way he had expected.

"You can take me back to my motel, I'm ok to be alone," Dean declared, didn't want to come off like some wussy who needed his hand held just because he had a close call with death. _'Yeah, because I've crossed paths with Death so often, we're on first name basis.' _

The kid's bravery almost put a chink in Caleb's armor, tore him up a little inside, made his words come out a bit thready. "Well, I'm not ok with you being alone. With you being out of my sight." Let Dean see in his eyes that it wasn't about trust, it was about fear, his. That his gut was still turned inside out over the tram incident, the numerous what-could-have-beens.

Caleb's open vulnerability had Dean nervously dropping his gaze to his knees and his hands worriedly pulling on some of the frayed thread of his ripped jeans. "Jason almost went without me. If I hadn't talked him out of it…" He stopped there, left the rest said only in his head. '_If Caleb didn't talk me out of going on the tram_…_if I hadn't talked Jason out of it, one or both of us would be dead right now. And some or all of it would have been my fault. So much for decisions being easy if they weren't about a hunt.'_

Reading Dean's inner turmoil, Caleb put a hand on Dean's shoulder, waited until green eyes met his before he spoke. "With my Mom, most of the time I get that I couldn't have saved her, that I was too young, too small, but today, when I thought I didn't save you.." But he couldn't say more, didn't think he could open his mouth right then without breaking down again.

Trust and love shone in Dean's eyes as they held his best friend's anguished gaze. "But you did save me."

Removing his hand from Dean's shoulder, Caleb shook his head in disgust, "I shoulda knocked you out and thrown you in the Jeep. Instead I was so worried that you'd hate me more than you already did that I let you walk back into the terminal. And then when I realized what a cowardly, colossally stupid thing I'd done, letting you slip through my fingers, I couldn't get in the door. Couldn't stop you."

Quietly, Dean confessed, "If you would have physically stopped me today, I would have just gone on the tram when you weren't around or….or found something crazier to do. Like I said, it was _my_ choice…and you let me make it."

Caleb released a shuttering breath, "I'm so proud of you, for the choice you did made."

Dean tilted his head in confusion. "Thought you were pissed at me."

Caleb chuckled. "Yeah, I'm kinda both."

"You're screwed up," Dean sallied back, lips fighting down a smirk.

Ruffling Dean's hair, Caleb shot back, "Yeah and some of that you can take credit for."

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After Mac did his doctor routine, dosed Dean with pain killers and a muscle relaxant, Caleb aided his charge to the bedroom, parked Dean on the bed and bent down to remove his sole remaining shoe. Found it easier to speak to said shoe than Dean. "Tell me it's over. That you're not going to do any more dares."

If Caleb's tone had been the least bit judgmental, Dean might have blown it off, said his whole life was a dare. But there was no criticism in his friend's tone, only heartfelt appeal. "It's over," he said, because it was. Jason might have gotten killed today because Dean wanted to up the ante, wanted a higher rush. And like Caleb had said, at least if someone died hunting, they were trying to do something honorable, to save lives, not satisfy some needy desire for freedom.

Caleb looked up at Dean from his crouched position. "Good because…I can't lose you. You get that now, right?" Didn't know what he would do, could do if Dean didn't grasp that all important fact.

After hearing Caleb scream his name, seeing his friend running wildly down the mountain, uncaring if he broke his own neck, yeah, Dean got that Caleb wouldn't take his death well. Swallowing, he nodded, verbalized when Caleb's pensive gaze remained locked on him, "I do." Felt that the responsibility to stay alive, it was a comforting weight, felt strange to be openly loved that much.

Caleb accepted Dean's declaration with hope. "Ok, kiddo." Then he stood up, watched the kid lay down. "Settle on your stomach and I'll hook you up with some nice ice packs."

"Dude, ice packs are not nice," Dean grumbled but did as he was instructed, was one minute listening to Caleb tell one of his infamous college party stories and the next, he was zonked out.

Pulling a chair close to the bed, Caleb flung his tall frame into the seat. Sat there and watched his little brother dream hopefully happy dreams. His own dreams that night, he knew, wouldn't be that peaceful. He wasn't some Pollyanna, didn't think bad think didn't happen to good people, knew exactly how close a call Dean had had, how easily the day could have ended in tragedy. And the fact that it hadn't, that was worth sending a thanks heavenward for answered prayers.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading & reviewing!

And I wanted to send out a thank you to my guest reviewer last chapter who requested John and Sam make an appearance in the story. That's been my plan all along but I was afraid everyone would expect me to finish the story here. So thanks so much for not only wanting more of the story but for asking for something I wanted to include in the tale!

So I hope you all are up for a few more chapters before this story concludes.

Have a great day! 

Cheryl W.


	12. Weighed Down

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 12: Weighed Down

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For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.

~ Romans 8:18

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Dean woke to raised voices, which really, wasn't anything new. Wondered what Sam and his Dad were fighting about now…when he remembered he was in Caleb's motel room and the voices he heard were Mac and Caleb's. Hardwired to a be a referee, Dean pushed the covers back and rolled out of bed, almost went to one knee as he tried to put his full weight on his bad leg. So it was more a hobble than a walk that got him across the room. Opening the bedroom door, he was suddenly privy to the conversation.

"I know I called him but now's not the time for him to storm in here, barking orders and interrogating Dean," Caleb heatedly retorted to whatever his father had said.

"Caleb, John's his father, he has every right to be here. He should be here," Mac insisted but in his calm, therapist tone he liked to pull out when tempers were high.

Both men swiveled to face Dean when the fifteen year old spoke. "You called my Dad?!" Dean angrily hissed, his irk aimed unflinchingly on Caleb. "Why would you do that?!"

Caleb sighed, ran a hand through his hair as Dean limped into the middle of the room. "I called him two days ago because I wasn't getting through to you, because I was scared," he admitted with raw honesty. That did him no good in Dean's eyes.

"That was your crap to work though!" Dean nearly shouted. "You didn't have to call him. Go running off to your mentor. What, you needed more brownie points with him even after your all-star hunt?! Thought ratting me out that I was misbehaving would get you more high praise from the mighty Knight."

Dean turned on his heels before Caleb answered, was furiously making his way back into the room, to retrieve his shoe and get as far away from Caleb as he could. But the jerk only followed him into the bedroom, stood over him as he yanked his shoe onto his uninjured foot.

His tone soft as he watched the kid's frantic actions Caleb explained, "Dean, I thought you needed him here, that he could stop your dares." '_Make you see that your life wasn't expendable.'_ But all Reaves' words got him was a shoulder-check by Dean as the boy hobbled out of the room, apparently on a mission to get his other shoe that was left by the couch.

Knowing Dean's goal, Caleb darted ahead of the injured boy, snagged the shoe off the floor and held it behind his back, which earned him an unholy glare of death from Dean. "Deuce, just…calm down. I didn't tell your father about the dares." Dean didn't need to know that was because John hadn't given him a chance to tell him, had shut him down long before the conversation could get there. Seeing some of the fury drain away from Dean's features, Caleb continued, "I told your dad that you were pushing me away…pushing Mac away, that you needed him." But that statement undid some of his good works.

"Well, I don't," Dean growled, making an unsuccessful grab for the shoe behind Caleb's back. "Fine, I don't need the stupid shoe." Turning for the door, he found Caleb blocking his way with his freaky tall body. "Get out of my way, Caleb."

"No," Caleb quietly but firmly replied. Then he tossed the shoe to his dad, who deftly caught it. Then, latching onto Dean's arms, he held the boy in place as he crouched down so Dean didn't have to look up at him, thought he was towering over him in a sign of aggression. "Deuce, I think you need to talk to your dad, tell him how you're feeling."

Dean's eyebrows rose to his hairline and his laugh was a bitter bark. "How I'm feeling?! Have you met John Winchester?! He doesn't care about feelings…he cares about the hunt….about his soldiers obeying his every command."

And Caleb couldn't dismiss that out of hand, had the same take on John some days. Ok, most days. Faltering in the belief that this was the right way to go with this, Caleb looked to his Father, wanted someone to tell him he was doing what was best for Dean.

Sitting Dean's shoe on the nearest chair, Mackland crossed over to the two boys he loved dearly. "Dean, why don't you sit down, take the weight off that leg."

With ill grace, Dean allowed Caleb to turn him around and steer him back to the couch, tensed for the upcoming confrontation when Caleb flopped on the couch beside him and Mac claimed a seat again on the table he had hours before. He headed off whatever doctor crap Mac was about to spew with a biting goad of "You aiming for a hat trick, want to be a medical doctor, the scholar _and a psychiatrist now_, Mac?"

Finding he was still thin-skinned when it came to verbal assault from Dean, Mac looked to Caleb, understood why his son was hesitant to push Dean too far. But their earlier conversation, before Joshua had called to give them a heads up that John was headed their way, replayed in his head.

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"_Dean says he's done with the dares. Do you think…..is he?"_

"_Caleb, you showed him how much he's loved, how much he is needed. He won't forget that. Will think of the consequences to others for his reckless actions."_

"_So more responsibility on his shoulders, another guilt trip?"_

_Mac sighed. "It's how Dean values himself: what his family thinks of him and needs from him. We can't break that part of him away, Caleb, even if we wanted to. But I am afraid that's an emotional roller coaster, that he might swear to never be reckless again but might fall into that habit to make himself feel better if we don't get things out in the open, prove to him that he has value in and of himself, even when those he loves are mad at him, hurt him.'_

"_How?"_

_And Mac hadn't had an answer to that…because he wasn't a psychiatrist._

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Said as much aloud to Dean now_. _"I'm not a psychiatrist, Dean. I'm just someone who loves you and is worried for you."

Dismissing Mac's declaration of love as a shrinky tactic, Dean scathingly repeated, "Worried for me?! If you gave a crap about my happiness, you won't have called my Dad, wouldn't sic him on me just because I wasn't toeing the line for Damien. I get to have my own life when I'm not a hunter, when Dad's not around. But now you screwed that up. He'll probably have me doing hunts solo or workouts or …or someone checking in on me to make sure I'm always being the hunter he's grooming me to be, even when he's not around."

Caleb's blood ran cold at Dean's assumptions because they might not be that far off. He shot a panicked look to Mac. "Dad, maybe John doesn't have to be told everything."

Mac fought down a sigh. Caleb's crumbling resolve wasn't helping matters. "And how did that work out for _Dean_ when you didn't tell John his son ran away to you." Because Caleb would bravely face John's wrath but was ever vigilant to not subject Dean to it.

"Dad doesn't have to know anything about this. If you two don't tell him…." Dean plotted, beseeching eyes going from Mac to Caleb

"Joshua knows about your river stunt…and then there's the Lositros kid. Dean, this will all come out sooner or later," Caleb realized.

"Ok, but …it's no big deal. If you hadn't overreacted and called him…" Dean began to rebuke his best friend.

"Overreacted?!" Caleb loudly repeated, shifting to the edge of the couch so he could glare at Dean. "You almost died! Four times!"

"Four times?! No way, once…._maybe,_" Dean vehemently argued.

"_Maybe_?! The tram fell, shattered into a thousand toothpicks?! A tram you were going to get in!?" Caleb pointed an accusing finger at Dean. "So don't tell me some fairy tale about you _maybe_ dying."

"Boys!" Macklack sharply called, finally bringing order back to the room. "I think we're straying from the point."

"The point is, this is none of your business!" Dean growled out his often touted line of the past week.

"You are my business!" Caleb fervently declared. "Your well-being is _always_ going to be my business!"

Mac held up his hands before the conversation could escalate. "Ok, ok," he placated before he reached out, laid his hands on Dean's knees and got the boy's full attention. "That's the main point: your well-being. That's all we want. For you to be ok, Dean."

Dean ducked his head down at Mac's unmitigated concern for him, mumbled, "I'm ok."

"That's all your father wants too, Dean," Mackland vowed and knew how true that was, even though John was bad at showing it, especially to his sons. "He wants you to be safe, for you to know how to keep yourself safe."

"To keep _Sam_ safe. That's my job number one," Dean shot back, eyes raising to Mac's, daring the Scholar to lie to his face. "I haven't forgotten my place in the family and that's all Dad will care about." Then he pushed Mac's hands off his knees and surged off the couch. Limping across the room, he ripped the door open and started down the hallway.

"Well, that family session went well," Caleb snarked as he grabbed the shoe Dean had left behind and tore off after his best friend.

No one was left in the room to hear Mac do the famous impersonation of "I'm a doctor, man, not a psychiatrist." And at that moment in time, facing off with some alien life form like Doctor McCoy would have to do seemed more preferable to having to mend the heart of not only one boy, but two.

Mackland grumbled to the room at large, "John, for once in your life, drop your titanium walls and tell your son you love him. Do it before you lose him for all of us."

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Dean hit his motel room running, well, limping fast. Was cleaning up like mad, stuffing things back in bags, leftover food was being tossed into the refrigerator or the trash can, and his bed made so a quarter could bounce off it. All in preparation for his Marine Dad's arrival.

And as much as Caleb understood the ritual, did it enough times with his home when his Dad was returning after being away a few days, there was a measure of fear in Dean's action. That there wouldn't be a disappointed sigh but a physical blow if he failed to clear away all evidence of his pigsty lifestyle the last month. Somewhere down deep, that hurt Caleb to witness. From his stance just inside the doorway, he assured, "It's going to be ok, Dean."

But Dean shot him a derogatory glare. "Says the man who ratted me out."

Caleb's stomach turned at the "ratted" accusation even as he knew it was accurate from Dean's point of view. Stood there silent as Dean finally took a seat on the edge of his bed but wasn't expecting the kid to pull his injured foot onto the bed, take off his shoe and begin to unwrap the bandage around his ankle. "Whoa whoa!" he exclaimed, crossing to Dean lightning fast and grabbing the kid's hand before he could unravel more of the dressing. "What are you doing?"

"Like I told Mac, I don't need the stupid bandage on," Dean bit out, yanking his hand from Caleb's grip. But Caleb didn't go away, instead he sank down on the bed at Dean's side and held his gigantic hands above the boy's ankle so the Dean couldn't finish the job he had started.

"You're not undoing Mac's hard work," Caleb stated in the tone he liked to throw around when he thought he was lead hunter over his younger charge.

"Right, okay. Well, why don't you scurry back to your old man and let me deal with mine," Dean drawled bitterly, wanted Caleb long gone before his Dad made his appearance.

The light bulb went off in Caleb's head. "You want to remove the bandage because you have no intentions of telling your Dad you hurt your ankle."

"It's just a stupid sprain. You and Mac totally have the freak-out-about-nothing response down pat."

Caleb chose to clench his jaw instead of ticking off all the reasons his "freak out" was called for. Instead, he silently rewrapped the section of the bandage Dean had loosened and secured the snap before he met Dean's frustrated expression. Would have given the kid a stern talking to …if he didn't know that, at the heart of Dean's reaction, was fear. As if that wasn't bad enough, Caleb felt it too. The fear that John would storm into the room and make everything worse, would hurt Dean when he was vulnerable, would unknowingly prove to Dean that everything he thought, that he was just a weapon to his father, that his life was expendable on a hunt, that if he was gone…John and Sammy would get over it, was somehow true. And Caleb knew that was the farthest thing from the truth.

"I know Johnny's crap at showing it, but he loves you Dean." And Caleb knew that as an irrefutable fact. Knew that John would crumble apart if something happened to either of his boys.

"Did I ask for a chick flick moment?" Dean sneered, making to move off the bed and away from Caleb but the twenty three year old caught his wrist in a gentle hold, forestalling his departure.

"He'd do anything to keep you and Sam safe. You saw how upset he was when Sam went AWOL."

"Yeah, that's _Sam_," Dean bitterly clarified_. "_And was it about fearing for Sam's safety or pissed he disobeyed his ranking officer and went off the reservation? Guess Sam should be lucky he didn't get fifty lashes for desertion. But then again…this is Sam we're talking about."

And Caleb was starting to finally get it, to see more of the missing pieces of the puzzle. "You think John only loves and worries about Sam? Dean, that's…"

But Dean yanked his wrist out of Caleb's hold and surged off the bed, hobbled to the table and began to wipe it down. Course Caleb trailed him there.

As much as Caleb wanted to out and out deny Dean supposition, he couldn't, but he could see what Dean didn't, that John wasn't acting that way for the reasons Dean thought. "Since your mother's death, you've been his anchor."

"Yeah, weighting him down," Dean grumbled with self-hatred, let Caleb spin him around to face him.

"Keeping him from drifting away, shattering apart," Caleb tenderly corrected. "When he needed someone to keep Sam safe while he tried to save you mother, he put baby Sam in _your arms_. When he had no one to tell him everything would be alright, you told him it would be. When he was drowning in the despair of finding monster after monster in the world he had thought was safe, you proved to him that there was still good in the world, in his world. Dean…it might not have been fair, but you've been holding your family together since day one, been safeguarding Sam's innocence and John's heart."

Dean turned his head away, felt his eyes welling. "What if I don't want to do any of that anymore?" he choked out, had done the thankless job for what? To be abandoned, to be forgotten, to be relegated to bait, to be a weapon, a crutch.

Caleb's heart broke more at the boy's question because he didn't have an answer for that, didn't know how Dean could change his role from anchor to child again. How John would survive if Dean did that, gave up all the duties he had taken on out of love. So he simply pulled Dean into a hug and said nothing, offered nothing. Not even hope. Couldn't, not when it could be a lie and he wouldn't do that to Dean again, wouldn't be another person who blindly hurt Dean, used him, relied on Dean's wholly selfless and good heart as if he didn't know what it cost Dean.

Caleb wasn't all that surprised when the fifteen year old pulled out of his hold a few seconds later, wiped a hand over his face to remove the despair like some magic trick. And it seemingly worked because John's tough little soldier was back. "You know what, all this drama is over nothing. He won't care," Dean bluntly stated as much as challenged. At Caleb's 'what the heck are you talking about' look, he clarified, "Dad won't care about the dares."

"He'll care you almost died doing them," Caleb shot back, but he couldn't forget his conversation with John on the phone, how the man had just blown off his fear for Dean.

Dean pulled on a smug smirk. "'Almost' is like 'close'…it only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Doesn't count. So tell whatever cock and bull story you want, it won't matter. You know why….because no one died, I didn't disobey any of Dad's rules and I'm still hunting fit." Then he took a laid back pose on the bed like he didn't have a care in the world.

Caleb almost pointed out that Dean and Jason trespassing, running the tram, and destroying private property was calling attention to himself, and therefore was breaking one of Johnny's rules. But he didn't want Dean thinking John's upcoming lecture was about rules instead of love so he chose to not mention that. "You risked your life, could have been in that tram when it fell."

"'_What if's_ aren't really Dad's thing," Dean unworriedly countered. "He deals in facts. No harm, no foul."

Caleb continued to protest. "But he…"

"Isn't Mac!" Dean shouted back before he tried to reclaim his nonchalant attitude. "He's not Mac, Damien. He's not going to make me hot chocolate, pull me into a hug and swear that the big bad world will never hurt me. Won't tell Sammy he doesn't have to do the family business, won't tell me that I'll never have to be bait again. One thing I can count on with dear old Dad…he doesn't lie, not to me." No matter how much Dean wished that he did. That his Dad hadn't told him how his Mom had died, that there were monsters in the world, that he and Sammy weren't safe, that he had to be vigilant and _keep_ himself and his brother safe.

Before Caleb could think how to respond, they both heard the rumble of the Impala's engine, knew that John Winchester was about to make his whirlwind appearance. And Caleb felt sick to his stomach with fear, not that John would ream Dean out…but that he wouldn't. That Johnny would react like Dean thought he would, that he wouldn't care Dean had nearly died, maybe had _wanted_ to die…would only care that his son hadn't die. And that just wasn't going to be good enough. Not by a long shot.

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TBC

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Thanks for reading & reviewing.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	13. Getting the 3rd Degree

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 13: Getting the Third Degree

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The Spirit also helpeth our infirmity; for we know not what we should pray for as we ought; But the Spirit himself maketh intercession for us.

~ Romans 8:26

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Coming to a stand, Dean began to doubt his own convictions when his Dad walked into the motel room and his eyes almost worriedly appraised him. Then eleven year old Sam lithely side stepped his Dad to enter the room and put an emotional tailspin on everything.

"No one told me you were hurt," Sam remarked, shooting a glare to his father for supposedly holding that info from him, even as he crossed the room to his brother. He reached out to inspect Dean's bruised jawline and the few scratches on Dean's cheek but Dean caught his wrist, intercepted his concerned intentions.

Dropping Sam's wrist with contempt, Dean took a step back from his brother, hoping Sam took the hint that he wasn't to be touched, that Sam had already done enough by making a big deal about a few black and blue marks and scratches on his face. "I'm not _hurt_," he disdainfully denied, like Sam was a child, was freaking out over nothing. But his eyes were on John, who was wearing an expression Dean couldn't place, but his Dad's interrogating tone when he spoke the next second, he was very familiar with.

"Yeah, and how did you get the bruises and scratches, Dean?"

Dean didn't look to Caleb. '_The jerk is probably over there gloating.'_ Unflinchingly holding his father's gaze, Dean answered, "Just some roughhousing in a swimming hole." Which wasn't a lie. There had been roughhousing and swimming and if this wasn't a hole he was crawling out of right now, then it was a crater. So he stood there, waiting for his Dad to cross examine him or Caleb to betray him.

"That right?" John drawled, eyes going from his son, who wasn't giving anything away, to Caleb, who was practically chomping at the bit to say something. His focus returned to his son as Dean answered.

Dean respectfully barked back , "Yes sir," but inside he cringed because he didn't lie to his father, ever. Kept things from him, yes, but out and out lie...no.

When John's eyes travel to Caleb in accusation, Dean knew that he had won round one, that his Dad believed him, not whatever Caleb said he'd been up to.

Caleb cursed silently and viciously. John was _buying_ Dean's good son routine. And it so wasn't that Caleb wanted the kid to get into trouble but he couldn't brush this under the carpet, let Dean think what he'd been up to was fine, that the next time he was upset he could do it all over again, tempt fate ….seek death.

"Junior, outside," John commanded Caleb before he stalked out of the room, wholly expected to be obeyed by his protégé.

Caleb shot Dean a look and wanted to haul the kid out the door with him when Dean gave him a smug, 'told ya' smirk. Nearly ripping the door off its hinges, Reaves joined John in the parking lot, didn't get a chance to speak before John was reaming him out.

"That's his big rebellion against you?! A few bruises, going to a swimming hole with some juvenile delinquents," John cuttingly snapped. "I know Mac had you on a pretty short leash as a kid so maybe you don't get the concept of boys just being boys." John ran a hand through his hair, couldn't believe he had let Caleb's conversation about Dean 'needing him' make him lose two nights sleep and pack Sam up in the Impala and travel the states to reach his elder son. Had had this fantasy running through his head like Dean would be waiting for him to make an appearance, run to him when he entered the motel room. '_Like he did when he was a kid, when I worked at the garage and would come home all greasy and tired and then have this little boy, the joy of my life, fly into my arms, make me believe I was worthy to be loved.' _

Caleb bit back an ill-advised comeback, knew that would give John an excuse to wholly discount everything he said, to dismiss Dean's recklessness as boyhood pranks. '_If he could see the visions I had about his son 'just being a boy', John would be having a very different conversation right now..but with Dean_.' But a large part of Caleb doubted that, wondered if John wasn't exactly like Jason's Dad, blasé about his son taking risks, thought like Dean claimed he did, that all's well that ends well as long as Dean wasn't out of commission, could still hunt.

"John it wasn't roughhousing. It was…" But Caleb faltered there, hadn't thought about his own contribution to Dean's facial injuries. Wasn't ready to confess that because then John would be all about anger and it wasn't about that, Dean didn't need that from John, for his dad to defend him. Dean needed his dad to love him.

"A fight?" John wrongly guessed. "So. I know Dean can hold his own."

And that just pissed Caleb off, that John was dismissing the fact that _someone_ had hit his son. Almost confessed it was him just to shock John, to get the dumbbehind to react, to show he would defend Dean against all comers…even him. But he stuck to his guns, said nothing about his shameful part in Dean's pain, wanted to focus on Dean, on what Dean needed his father to know, even if Dean didn't want John to know.

Because this scenario, it could happen again. The Winchester lives weren't rays of sunshine, rainbows and unicorns and Dean always managed to take the brunt of the bad times, took it on to spare his dad and brother having to bear the scars. So yeah, Dean feeling alone and betrayed, it would happen again. '_But next time I won't play a part in any of that,'_ Caleb silently vowed, would never again use Dean, betray him, hurt him. But even as he pledged that vow, Caleb knew Dean would see what he was about to do next as all of that. A betrayal meant to hurt him when it was solely meant to safeguard him, to ease the hurts Dean already had.

"John, Dean didn't get the scratches on his face or the bruises all down his back, or his sprained ankle from roughhousing…" Caleb quietly said, knew his words were having an impact when John stiffened at his recounting of Dean's unseen injuries.

**SNBROSSSNBROSSN**

Inside the motel room, the brothers awkwardly shuffled around each other, Dean to the kitchen and Sam to the window.  
>His back to his brother, Sam asked, "What's wrong with your leg?"<p>

"Nothing," Dean snapped, didn't need Sam pointing out more things to Dad. And it was just like Sam to not drop things he wanted dropped.

"You're limping," Sam stated, turning around and leaning against the window sill as he watched his big brother pour himself a glass of soda from the refrigerator.

"Am not," Dean petulantly denied, slamming the glass back onto the table. "And don't tell Dad any different."

Sam shrugged, dropped his eyes to his shoes. Sure, he had been mad at Dean for telling Dad he took off, for helping John find him, but now that the roles were being reversed, Dean being mad at him….it hurt. He ached to get Dean to like him again. "So was it cool, being Caleb's second in command on the hunt?"

"Second in command?" Dean snorted. "That what you think?!" chiding in his tone, though to be fair, he had foolishly thought the same thing when he joined Caleb's first big head honcho hunt. '_How naïve I was…almost as much as Sam was thinking he could get away from our Dad, from hunting.'_

Not sure why or how he had made Dean even angrier, Sam tried another tactic. "'Least you got to hang out here by yourself." Had a new appreciation for getting to be on your own after his runaway exploit…and a new respect for his brother's bravery for being on his own so much, so being the one in charge of keeping them both safe when Dad was gone. Because, truth be told, he had been scared to death every night of his AWOL status, the runaway dog showing up had been a God send to stave off his fear.

But the look Dean leveled at him wasn't the grin he expected but the hard expression his older brother used on idiots and bullies. "Yeah, because being with family sucks, doesn't it, Sammy," Dean sneered, eyes glittering with contempt and hurt.

Shamed at having run away, if not from his father certainly from Dean, Sam retaliated hurt for hurt. "Well, being with _you_ sucks."

Dean hid his pain behind a vicious smile. "Tell me how you really feel," he taunted with a drawl. But then Dean snapped his fingers like he had a eureka moment, "Oh, right, you already did. Ditched me and let Dad chew me out for losing you and then you said I sucked. So yeah, I think our Phil Donahue moment's over." Then he crossed the room, turned on the tv and flopped down on the bed, made it a point to ignore Sam's presence in the room.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

"Sprained ankle and a bruised back, you said he wasn't hurt," John reproached, punctuated his ire by pointing a not-so-benign finger at Caleb.

"I didn't know about those injuries when I called you," Caleb defended even as he chastised himself. _'I knew Dean was favoring his one leg, was scraped up, looked like he took a mud bath after the hand-bridge event, should have guessed he was hurt and wasn't telling me.'_

"When you called me, I told you to fix your relationship with Dean, not let him get hurt brawling_," _John shot back.

"It's not just my relationship with Dean that is broken!" Caleb defensively parried.

That got John stepping threateningly into his personal space. "I've taken a bunch of meddling and lecturing from Jim and Mac since Sam's stunt but you're not going to tell me how to treat my kids. I'm their father…"

"So act like it!" Caleb growled, didn't flinch when John roughly grabbed him by his shirt front. "Dean's _hurt_ by Sam's actions, by your blaming him for them, by my using him on the hunt. He thinks he doesn't have value, that _we_ don't value him if we can't use him. Thinks that we'd all be hunky-dory if he suddenly wasn't around anymore."

"What in the world are you talking about?!" John scathingly retorted shoving Caleb away like his brand of crazy was contagious.

Having led the conversation to this apex, Caleb hated that he was having trouble saying what he knew needed said next. And it wasn't all about John's reaction. No, it was about how the declaration would hit Caleb, saying it aloud, admitting it, knowing how things had nearly ended, that they might get that bad down the road if John didn't know how his son felt, how his son dealt with those feelings. "He was …..was trying to hurt himself. Was doing reckless stunts that ended in injuries….almost ….."

"Hurt himself?" John mockingly parroted back, seemingly holding back a smirk. "_Stunts_? Kid, maybe I misjudged you. The next _Knight_ shouldn't wet his pants over a protégé enjoying living on the edge."

Caleb gritted his teeth at John's smear on his Knight future, as if he gave a crap about that over Dean's well-being. Raising his ringless hand, he bit out, "Screw being the Knight and screw the Brotherhood. I'm talking about your son _dying_!"

John grabbed Caleb's wrist before the younger man could drop his hand, seared his gaze into Caleb's. "What are you talking about, _dying_?! And where's your ring?"

Caleb couldn't help goadingly fire back, "Wow, I'm finally getting your full attention. But is it my denouncing you as my mentor or the fact that your son…or should I say _hunting partner_ almost opted out of being at your side that snagged your attention."

Flinging Caleb's wrist from his hold, John ordered, "Cut the crap right now. You tell me exactly what's going on."

Though John was finally open to the truth, Caleb knew he had gone about it the wrong way. That John being angry so wasn't a great way to tell him about Dean seemingly not caring if he got himself killed, about the tram incident that almost gave Dean his wish, about Caleb's part in Dean's bruises. So he hedged his tale with a little psychological gambit. "You and I both know what it's like to have our faith in our families tainted. Well, Dean's feeling some of that since Sam ran away, because for him, Sam left _him_….as surely as you feel your dad left you."

That comparison had John paling. "Sam ran away from hunting…wanted to get out from under my control. It didn't have anything to do with Dean."

"That's not what you accused Dean of," Caleb quietly countered, knew the pain he was kicking up but couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. John's pain he could endure…Dean's…not at all. "When you found out Sam left, you lit into Dean, demanded what he had done, what he had said to his brother to make him run away."

Shamed at his panicked actions, John stammered, "I…I was trying to figure out Sam's motives…I didn't…it wasn't about Dean."

Not with condemnation but with sorrow Caleb replied, "And that's part of the problem. Dean doesn't think anything good is about him. Thinks all the wrong, all the bad is his fault. And none of us had a problem pushing our frustration onto him. Sam's pissed at Dean because he helped you find him, you're pissed at Dean because you think he failed you because Sam ran away on his watch, I was pissed at Dean for making me feel guilty for having a successful hunt just because I used him for bait. And he takes it, Dean always takes it…until he can't. Until he _breaks_."

John's eyes grew wide with grim realization of all that had been heaped on Dean's shoulders, on his eldest son's so vulnerable heart. Then Caleb's earlier words were hitting him, stabbing him, right in his own heart: _'He was …..was trying to hurt himself. Was doing reckless stunts that ended in injuries.' 'I'm talking about your son dying!'_

Suddenly John was pierced with the fierce need to see his son, to make sure Dean was alright. He was turning back for the room when he caught sight of Mac's car pulling into the motel's parking lot. "You call for backup again or does your Dad just sense a psychic opening to lecture me when my emotional dams are crumbling."

"From personal experience, I'm going with B," Caleb mumbled, wasn't exactly looking forward to his Dad's presence because John's emotional walls weren't the only ones in ruin. Didn't want to give his Dad an unwelcome look into his pain, his fear. Knew Mac would try to take it on himself and that wasn't what he wanted…what he deserved. It didn't equate with Caleb that that was exactly how he reacted to Dean's pain, wanted to take it away from his friend, would gladly bear it so Dean wouldn't have to.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Dean held back a sigh as John, Caleb and _Mac_ came into the motel room. Didn't like the way he was the center of their attention. Like he was some drug addict they needed to stage an intervention for. Coming off the bed, he stood up straight, his chin jutting out, daring them to try their best. Regardless of what Caleb thought, he didn't break that easily, wasn't going to let them drag him into some emotional scene when all this was over nothing. Caleb had been a little freaked out about the tram close call, that was it.

Sensing that lines were being drawn even if he didn't know why, Sam chose his side without hesitation. He defiantly stood at Dean's shoulder and readied himself to defend his big brother against whatever accusations the adults in the room were about to make against Dean. He gave Dean an encouraging smirk when his brother looked down at him in surprise, didn't feel that great when Dean took a step forward to meet his firing squad instead of enduring his company.

John opened his mouth but a knock at the door at their backs forestalled his first words. He caught the flicker of relief in his eldest son's eyes before he swung around, ripped the door open, set to dismiss whoever dared to intrude on their family drama. Wasn't expecting another hunter to be darkening their doorway, namely James Lositros and his son.

"Lositros," he gruffly greeted, liked the other hunter well enough but being gregarious wasn't in John Winchester's repertoire.

"Hey, I'm glad you're here, John. It's best we talk in person," were Lositros' unexpected opening lines delivered, not with the carefree attitude that had pissed Caleb off so badly, but with true distress. "Can I come in?"

Sighing in frustration at the new drama he sensed about to unfold, John stepped back from the doorway, was his version of an invitation for Lositros. Even as James Lositros stepped into the room, his son remained outside, called through the open doorway, "Dean," and jerked his head to the right, indicating Dean should join him outside.

Without asking permission, Dean readily skirted around his disbanded firing squad, slipped out of the motel room and pulled the door shut. "Dude, your timing is awesome. What's your dad here about? Another hunt?" because Dean hadn't missed that Lositros had a bag slung over his shoulder that probably contained his cache of weapons.

"I wish," Jason exhaled, felt his cheeks pink with embarrassment before he confessed. "You know my two friends that lent you the motorcycle? Well, they were videotaping your stunt. My Dad's about to show your dad your Evel Knievel moment."

Dean's blood ran cold because countering Caleb's verbal description about his antics was one thing, getting his Dad to not be pissed at seeing his exploits in living color was quite another thing. After all, seeing was believing. Made him tack onto his Dad's favorite motto of 'We do what we do and we shut up about it' a very sage addition of '_and we don't let someone video tape it either._'

'_Ah, crap. The stuff is officially going to hit the fan now_,' Dean realized, wondered if he'd be in the dog house _with_ Sam or if his screw up would liberate Sam and he'd get to roam the dog house all by his lonesome.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

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Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

And for those in the US, have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Cheryl W.


	14. Seeing Is Believing

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's note: Ok, this was going to be a bigger chapter but since it's taking me so long to get it all together, I decided to split it up and give you the part I have ready.

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CHAPTER 14: Seeing is Believing

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In wrath, remember mercy.

~Habakkuk 3:2

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

When James Lositros entered the motel room with his weapon bag slung over his shoulder, Caleb feared for a moment that he was there to blame Dean for his own son's recklessness the past few days. It left Caleb torn between protectively stepping in front of Dean or telling the kid to make a run for it. As it turned out, Dean wisely darted out the door, joined Jason outside, where both teenagers could readily make an escape if Lositros' dad went on a killing rampage.

As if reading his son's over-dramatic take on things, Mac caught Caleb's eyes and rolled his eyes, knew he had eased his son's tension when Caleb held back a shamed smirk. But Mac chided himself the next second when he had the urge to step in front of Caleb when Lositros slung his bag off his shoulder, dropped it onto the nearest bed, zipped it open and dug in its depths. Was braced to disarm Lositros from whatever weapon he drew from his cache…..felt nine ways more foolish than Caleb when his fellow hunter pulled out a _video camera. He s_hot Caleb a relieved, if embarrassed look, which Caleb nervously returned.

John didn't seem to be fazed by any of it. "Caleb told me the hunt went by the book. I don't need a video recap," John gruffly tried to cut off the show and tell, hated looking at trip and hunting pictures and really didn't need to see it in some shaky amateur video more likely to make him hurl than smile.

Probably used to Winchester being a jerk, Lositros didn't even dignify John's words with a reply. He kept tinkering with the camera until he had it right and then he handed it off to John with a grim, "I think you should see this."

Red flags were going on in Caleb's head. He didn't know what Lositros had on the video but his gut and his psychic instincts were telling him that Dean wasn't the only one who should have run the second Lositros knocked on their door. But, instead of running, Caleb's curiosity had him sidling up to John's side to see the video that had Lositros acting so morose.

With a frustrated glare at Lositros, John hit the play button and the little camera screen came to life. And yup, the video was shaky like he knew it would be but that didn't matter when he recognized the subject matter in the home movie: his son…on a motorcycle, the backdrop a mountain range. John's gut instinctively dropped to his boots and his hold on the video camera turned white knuckled as he watched Dean maneuver the bike onto a trail…no, scratch that, a train track.

Though John could hear Dean revving the bike's engine, he missed the words exchanged by Lositros's son and his own. Then the camera view pulled back, showed that the train tracks ran through a suspended train bridge and the camera man was kind enough to show the sickening distance from the bridge to the rushing river water below. For the next few moments, the camera got a boring view of the camera man's feet until a shrill train whistle came through the speakers, caused the video to wildly swing up from the ground to sight on a train coming around a bend in the forest. Tracked the locomotive as it headed for the bridge…and subsequently, directly toward John Winchester's son's location.

The scene that animated the small screen filled John with dread: the train relentlessly advancing toward the bridge's west side, Dean on the bike on the east side, immobile yet, but the revving engine predicted that wouldn't last. John nearly jumped when the speakers erupted with a shout of his son's name, Caleb heard seconds before he was seen climbing up the embankment on the west side of the bridge.

Undeterred by Caleb's appearance or the train's looming approach, Dean gunned the motorcycle, expertly kept the bike's wheels on the train tracks as he sped it into the bridge…directly toward a head-on collision course with the train. A train that was unstoppable at that point, what with its tonnage of freight cars following the engine.

Though he knew Dean was alive and well, John found himself unable to draw in a breath, felt utterly horrified as Dean raced through the bridge, drew closer to the train's unforgiving nose. Was mentally calculating Dean's options, trying to predict the outcome: was Dean going to clear the bridge before the train entered it? Would his son be forced to ditch the bike and dive to the edge of the bridge to be out of the train's murderous path. But painfully slow second after second crept by and Dean didn't deviate from his plan, resolutely continued to aim himself for the train.

If there were more than inches to spare when Dean cleared the bridge, yanked the bike hard to the right, dodged a death by train obituary, John wouldn't believe it. He almost startled when Lositros reached out and stabbed the pause button.

"I don't think your boy should see the rest of it," Lositros announced, nodding to Sam, who had resourcefully stood on the bed behind his dad so he could watch the video between his father and Caleb's shoulders.

Turning around, John found a Sam that was almost as pale as the time he had had strep throat. "Sam…" he began but Sam leaped off the bed and bolted for the door. John knew exactly who Sam was running to, always ran to whenever he was scared: His big brother.

Watching Sam's departure, Caleb contemplated going after him, though, admittedly, his desire to leave the room wasn't just about seeing to Sam's well-being, would partly be for his own preservation, because, unlike John and Sam, he knew what the video would show next. Feared that his relationship with John Winchester would never be the same once John knew he had struck Dean.

'_Nothing less than I deserve,_' Caleb bitterly decreed, caught James Lositros eyeing him up. Nodding to the other hunter, he gave Lositros his blessing to ruin his life for a mistake he couldn't take back, but oh how he wished that he could.

**SNBROSNBROSSN**

From his position on his dad's car hood, Jason looked to Dean, who was calmly leaning against the bumper. But Winchester's eyes gave away his cool façade, were fixed on his motel room door, as if Dean feared his dad would burst out of it any second. "Sorry to get you busted by your old man. Will his reaction be worse than Reaves'?" Jason asked as he unconsciously fingered the knife in his pocket, wondered if anything short of a tank would give John Winchester pause if he meant to do Dean harm.

Dean shrugged, was still thinking his Dad wouldn't care about some chicken game he played with a train as long as he was still in shape to hunt, which he was. Because his ankle, it wasn't anything, would be good as new in a day or two and he could hunt with it the way it was if he needed to. But he looked to Jason, hadn't missed the way the kid's dad was acting when he showed up on their doorstep. "Your dad seemed wound up about the bike thing and that wasn't even you."

Jason gave a ballsy smirk. "Yeah, well, the tape had some of my earlier exploits on it."

"So your dad was pretty pissed?" Dean asked, was studying Jason for what he wouldn't say, was giving the older boy a visual once over for evidence that the elder Lositros had displayed his anger at his son in a physical manner.

Though Jason's front of amusement faded, it didn't shift to fear but to shame. "It would have been easier if he was mad," his voice breaking a little on the words.

Dean felt his mouth go dry, hoarsely guessed, "So…he didn't care?" hated that Jason was right about his dad, that maybe he was right about his own. That they were both first born sons: expendable, replaceable.

Jason slid off the hood, turned his back on Dean, kicked a loose stone across the parking lot before he turned back to Dean, eyes welling. "No, he did care. Got all….broken up. Said…" Here Jason rubbed his eyes, inhaled sharply, got himself locked down before he said the rest. "He said our family lost my mom….wouldn't survive losing me too. I never…I didn't think he'd care if I got myself killed."

"He loves you," Dean declared, was happy for Jason, gave a small smile to prove it.

"Yeah, guess he does," Jason concluded, knew then and there what kind of good guy Dean really was, that Winchester had the knack to be happy for others when something good came to them, even when they got something he wanted and didn't have. "Maybe your dad…." He began to offer hope, which Dean shot down.

"He used to…before my mom was killed. Now," Dean shook his head. "He doesn't get broken up, he gets mad and even, shows his love by not sparing the proverbial rod, exacts punishments on me for things I do…or Sam does."

Instantly, Jason put the pieces together. "Like Sam running away?"

Dean gave a self-depreciating laugh. "Being the oldest sucks."

Before he could make a comeback, Jason saw Sam come out of the motel room, muttered under his breath to Dean, "Speaking of little brothers."

Without turning around, Dean ordered, "Sam, go back inside."

Fearlessly stepping between the two older boys, Sam faced off with his brother. "No. I saw what you did, Dean."

"Good for you," Dean dismissed, spoke to Jason over Sam's head, "Bet your two Spielberg jonsing friends got in trouble for the video too."

Jason gave a smile that was in no way repentant. "How do you think my Dad got the video. One of their mom's saw the tape and flipped out, ground her kid and got on the phone to the other kid's mom and my Dad."

"Ah, so there is a silver lining in this," Dean joked.

"And they think getting grounded is like…._horrible_," Jason chuckled at the tame mellow dramas of a normal kid's life compared to what he and Dean dealt with on a daily basis.

"They should go on a hunt. Then they'd know true punishment," Dean countered, imagined the two kids wetting their pants just being in a dark forest and that was before the fugly made an appearance and tried to eat them.

"Especially a hunt led by Reaves," Jason drawled with contempt.

"Yeah," Dean quietly agreed because the hurt from Caleb's betrayal wasn't going to fade away overnight.

"Why? What's so bad about Caleb heading up the hunt?" Sam piped in, hanging on every word his brother and his friend uttered.

Dean shook his head slightly at Jason, didn't want Sam privy to what went down. Finally acknowledging Sam's presence, Dean dropped his gaze to his brother, snidely drawled, "You're still here. Don't you have a dog in Arizona to get back to?"

Face colored with shame, Sam stomped off but not before he heard Jason.

"He makes my little brothers' grumblings look like a good time. Can't believe you get in trouble if he does something your dad doesn't like. No wonder you weren't looking forward to either of them coming back into town."

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

However badly Caleb thought John would take seeing him hit Dean, it was worse. Even as the video kept playing, John tossed the camera onto the bed, latched onto Caleb's shirt and slammed him hard enough into the wall to put a Caleb shaped hole in the plaster. "I trusted you to keep him _safe_ and you hit him?!" John growled in Caleb's face, one hand coiling around Caleb's throat in a choke hold.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	15. Let Your Love Shine

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

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CHAPTER 15: Let Your Love Shine

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It is better to correct someone openly than to have love and not show it.

~ Proverbs 27:5

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

"_I trusted you to keep him safe and you hit him?!" John growled in Caleb's face, one hand coiling around Caleb's throat in a choke hold. _

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

"Jonathan!" Mac exclaimed was about to come to his son's aid when Lositros surprisingly stepped in and yanked John off of Caleb.

Holding the struggling Knight, Lositros shouted, "Reaves saved your son's life, Winchester!" using his hold to spin them both around, he gave John a shove toward the opposite end of the room from Reaves. Then he stood in Winchester's way of reaching the younger hunter. "He saved your son's life!"

Glaring at Caleb over Lositros's shoulder, John furiously bit out, "Funny 'cause it looks a lot like he's hitting my kid."

Lositros put a halting hand onto John's chest, holding him back. "Heated emotions sometimes don't bring out the best in us. Reaves just thought your kid got himself killed right in front of his eyes, so he screwed up here but he didn't give up. Followed my son and Dean to some abandoned aerial tram where they were gonna do their next brainless stunt. Reaves talked Dean out of getting in the tram…and in turn, Dean talked my son out of it too. But Jason, he still wanted to know if the tram would work, sent the car on its merry way…and the tram car…" Here Lositros's voice cracked, showed the emotions the man had kept in check until then. "The cables busted, sent the car crashing to the forest floor….would have killed both our kids."

Anger replaced by weak kneed fear, John took a stumbling step back, out of Lositros's grip. His eyes searching Caleb's for the truth, saw it by the wide-eyed residual of horror and fear in his protégé's dark gaze. He ran a shaking hand over his rough beard, was having a hard time picturing Dean being so reckless, risking his life so carelessly when Dean knew, _knew_ how much he loved him, depended on him, how much Sam adored him.

Lositros snagged John's attention back as he spoke. "Jason said he was trying to learn how to be brave, to not fear dying so he could avenge his mother's death with his life, if he had to. Thought I …." Lositros shifted on his feet, shame coloring his features, "He thought I didn't care if I lost him… because I had his brothers to take his place in my hunt for his mother's killer."

'_Dean couldn't think that. Would know better?!_' John tried to reassure himself but the little voice in his head jeered, '_How would he know what you've never told him_.'

Holding John's stunned gaze, Lositros said, "I thought the worst thing that ever happened to me was losing my wife, but losing Jason, any of my kids because of this revenge kick I've been on, that's something I couldn't survive. Wouldn't _want_ to survive. Isn't something my wife would ever forgive me for."

Pointing to his weapon's bag, Lositros looked to Mackland then settled his gaze onto Winchester. "I'm giving up hunting. And like you once said John, if you ever walked away from the life, you'd cut all ties. Leave no connections stand that could lead anything evil to you or your kids. So…I'm doing that. You can divvy out my weapons." Then he held out his hand to John and they shook and he repeated the gesture with Mackland. But he surprisingly went off and hugged Reaves, hard.

"Thanks for saving my kid," Lositros said by Caleb's ear before he let the younger hunter go and strode out the door, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

A little shamed at Lositros's gratitude when he hadn't done any of his actions to save Jason, Caleb watched through the open motel room door as the man slung an arm around his son's shoulder, shook Dean's hand then got in his car. Since Lositros men were apparently huggers, (who knew), Jason gave Dean a hard hug goodbye before he joined his dad and then the Lositros family put hunting and the Brotherhood in their rearview mirror.

But it was the James Lositros's words to John that rang through Caleb's head, about John planning how he would quit hunting, that he would sever all ties to the hunting life…to the Brotherhood. And the odds that John would make the same choice Lositros just had…it terrified Caleb. Because even if he never slipped on his Brotherhood ring again, never went hunting ever again, he couldn't undo what he was, was a friggin' psychic, was a living breathing entity of the supernatural.

That if John chose to cut ties from the hunting life, from the supernatural to keep Dean and Sam safe, it would mean Caleb would never see Dean again, Sam either. Would lose them both in one fell swoop. Because of love, because John loved his sons. And it was the most selfish Caleb had ever been, wishing that John didn't love Dean that much, Sam that much, that John's selfish, bullheaded, revenge crazed mindset wouldn't change. That John wouldn't be as noble as James Lositros, wouldn't steal away half of Caleb's heart by doing the right thing.

Sam's entrance into the motel room broke Caleb from his grim thoughts. It took only one look at the eleven year old's face for Celeb to know that the boy was upset. Though he wanted to go to him, Caleb knew John was still waiting for more answers from him. His dad caught his eye, gave a nod and turned to Sam.

"Hey, let's take a walk, Sam," Mackland suggested to the boy, hated to leave Caleb alone to deal with the fallout of John's anger and Lositros stunning decision but knew Caleb would want Sam to be comforted, that his son's heart went out to John's boys, first and foremost.

Sam dejectedly nodded, grumbled under his breath, "Why'd you all drag me back here if I'm not wanted anywhere," as he exited the motel room he clearly wasn't welcome in, not since the 'adult talk' wasn't over with yet. Sure, Arizona had been lonely but at least he had thought someone might miss him, Dean for sure. _'Yeah, right. Like that kid said, Dean wishes Dad never found me and brought me back.' _He startled a bit when Mac's large hand settled gently on his shoulder to steer him toward the motel office.

"You alright, Sam?" Mac asked before he realized how stupid a question that was. The kid had watched a video where his brother nearly got himself killed, of course he was upset. But as was the Winchester trait, Sam denied anything so ridiculous as being hurt or scared.

"Yeah, fine," Sam mumbled, looking anywhere but at Mac, didn't trust the tears in his eyes to not slip down his face.

But Mac had been a father long enough to know when a boy was trying to be tough when he was feeling anything but that, was, in fact, feeling really scared and vulnerable. Mac also didn't miss when Sam shot a furtive look toward Dean who had claimed a seat on the picnic table top across the parking lot. And since he had been on the receiving end up Dean's caustic tongue and almost fell to tearing up himself, he was pretty sure what Sam was feeling. "Let's take a seat," he suggested pointing to a bench along the office front.

With ill-disguised unhappiness, Sam slumped down onto the bench, scooted to the far end when Mac claimed a seat at his side. "Sam, Dean's pretty upset right now and sometimes people say things they don't mean when they're upset."

Toeing the blacktop, Sam achingly muttered, "He meant it."

It took none of his fatherly instincts to read the misery in Sam's statement. "Dean's been pretty furious with me too."

Sam's wide eyes snapped up to Mackland. No one hardly ever found reason to be mad at Mac. "Why? What did you do?" a bit of a threat in his voice as feelings of protectiveness for his brother sprang to the surface.

'_Crap, I didn't want to get into that_,' Mac mentally chastised himself, thought quickly how to phrase his answer. "He thought I didn't have the right to give him orders."

Sam's eyes narrowed in disbelief and a hint of distrust at Mac's reply. "But Dean always follows orders." And to Sam, that was part of the problem: Dean following orders, following their Dad's orders, regardless if they were in Dean's best interest or not.

Mac gentled his tone. "No one follows orders all the time, Sam. Sometimes people feel…."

"Hurt," Sam perceptively supplied, didn't need Mac's nod to know he was right, that Dean sounded angry but that usually meant he was hurt. "And they do things they wouldn't usually do. Like what Dean did on the motorcycle."

Suddenly Mac felt out of his league, that it should be John there having this conversation with Sam. Knew what Caleb would say about his qualms: '_Man up, Dad._' So Mac did. "Yes." Watched how his direct answer had Sam's eyes seeking out his brother's form across the parking lot before he gave Mac his piercing eye contact.

"Did Dean want to ….hurt himself?"

Mac had been faced with harder conversations, like telling someone their loved ones were gone but this conversation was still in the top ten. Wanted to sugar coat it but in the same respect, didn't want Sam thinking Dean's actions were ok, that he could do them, especially on top of the kid's recent running away stunt. "I think it started out as an act of rebellion but I don't think he was concerned if he got hurt."

And Mac's explanation would take a perceptive adult time to interpret but he could see by the tears gathering in Sam's eyes, that the boy got it immediately. "He thinks I don't love him because I ran away."

"Dean's….confused," Mac hedged but Sam bitterly denounced, "Meaning yes." Then Sam turned in his seat, faced Mac with an earnest appeal, "But that's not true! I love my brother, more than anyone else." But then his face paled as he realized what he had confessed, "I mean, I love Dad, too."

"But a brother's something special," Mac provided Sam an explanation and the boy readily shook his head.

"And Dean's the best brother. Like ever," Sam declared, had met a truckload of brothers in his short but well –traveled life to know Dean wasn't like other brothers. Took care of him, supported him, was his own personal cheering section at sporting games, was never late picking him up after school, never faltered on a promise, unlike their Dad.

Mac nodded, didn't know how much Sam and John had discussed Sam's reasons for running away, if he was stepping over a line having the conversation he was with Sam. "Maybe Dean just needs to hear that from you."

The fervent affection in Sam's eyes darkened and he slid back to his original position on the bench. "He doesn't want me around."

"Is that what he told you?" Mac gently pressed Sam, to which Sam gave a dejected nod. "Well, like we said, he's been feeling hurt and he's saying things he doesn't mean."

That got Sam's eyes rising to his. "And doing things he doesn't mean, either. He didn't really mean to hurt himself, right? He knew he was faster than the train."

And having seen what Caleb had witnessed in person, Mackland really wanted to believe, like Sam did, that Dean knew he could beat the train, even as Mac rationally accepted that Dean knew no such thing. The boy had tempted death, had nearly lost his life, all for some dare, to rebel against the choices made for him, to muffle his pain. Mac felt his stomach do another flip like it had as he watched the video. Couldn't imagine the wave of grief that would have washed over all of them if they had lost Dean. Lost the boy that had such life, offered such fervent loyalty to his family, both of blood and those he adopted, who loved so selflessly and deeply.

At Mac's silence, Sam understood that the reassurance wasn't coming, that Mac couldn't tell him that Dean knew he was faster than the train because it would be a lie. That Dean played chicken with a train, knowing full well he could die, might leave him and their Dad, Caleb too. As frightening as that thought was, something else occurred to Sam. "How did Dean really get the bruises and scratches on his face? Hurt his leg? He wasn't hurt on the video, not before the train came and not after."

Desperate to end the cross examination by the way-too-intelligent eleven year old, Mac stood up, announced, "I think we should get back to the room."

But Sam's eyes were wide with fear. "That wasn't the last dare Dean did, was it?"

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Caleb was still trying to come to terms with the choice John might make when Winchester shattered the quiet by asking, "What did he say to you?"

Raising confused eyes to the Knight, Caleb stammered, "Who? Lositros? Just now?"

"Dean…before you hit him," John tried to make the words come out calm, unaffected but failed miserably. Thought to himself that no one should be calm when they talked about someone hitting their kid.

'_And that was Johnny for you, always going for the jugular, even when he was blindly stabbing in the dark,_' Caleb thought. He had to clear his throat before he could make sounds that were audible. "That I was only upset because, if he died there, I wouldn't get a reward, only got one if he died on a hunt, that I should….screw up the next hunt so he'd….that…he'd be 'nice and dead and nobody's burden anymore.'"

Pain pierced John's heart, like an emotional heart attack, had him going pale and sinking down on to the end of the bed. Bowing his head into his hands, John tried to shut out Caleb's words, to convince himself Dean would _never_ say them, _think them_. But suddenly he didn't know anything for certain, he never thought Sam would run away…from him, yes, but not ever from Dean. And now this stuff with Dean, Dean risking his life, willing to abandon him….Sam. This wasn't his boys, wasn't his family.

Raising his head, his red rimmed eyes met Caleb's. "Why?" John hoarsely asked, because that was the only question that came to him, why was his family falling apart, why was his actions born out of love threatening to steal away his sons, why was he there when Mary wasn't. When Mary would have never done anything to make her sons run away…or want to die.

John Winchester didn't seek advice, Caleb knew it was one of his dad and Pastor Jim's pet peeves and now John was asking advice from him?! But the honor of being in that situation crumbled under the heartrending pain not only that Dean was suffering, but Sam and John were too. And pain…he knew.

The words flowed out of Caleb, not with superior knowledge but new painful insight to his best friend's hurts. "His family seems to be falling apart, the people he trusts have betrayed him, he thinks he has no say in how he lives…or dies. That hunting is…" but Caleb caught himself in time, didn't say the rest, didn't give John more reason to follow in James Lositros's footsteps, to abandon hunting. '_You mean abandon __you__. Dean's life is more important than your happiness. Always_.' So Caleb bucked up, said the condemning statement. "The only way he can earn your love…or keep mine."

John paled further and his voice was broken when he spoke, "I loved Dean the first second Mary put him in my arms, have never stopped, could never stop. Hunting is….what took Mary could come for him…for Sam, they need to be prepared, need to be able to defend themselves, save themselves. In case I…can't…In case I fail them like I failed Mary."

"John.." Caleb began, intent on easing John's guilt.

But John surged off the bed, his words cutting off Caleb's. "I'm nobody's perfect version of a dad, I know that, can't seem to change that, but I love my kids, would kill and die for them."

"I know that," Caleb quietly interjected, because hadn't he told Dean the same thing. "But maybe what Dean needs right now…Sam too, isn't to be someone you defend with your life and mold into invincible warriors…but to just be your kids. To have you be their Dad…and not their commanding officer."

When John went still, Caleb wasn't sure if another hard shove was coming his way until John gave a solemn nod and confessed. "I want that too."

But the how, John didn't know, would have to blindly feel his way on that path but if anyone was worth going down a blind alley…his sons were.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

If any of the Winchesters ran toward pacifist lines, it was Sam, more prone to trash talking than getting into a physical scuffle. Which made Sam diverting from the motel room door to go to Dean and giving his big brother a shove that toppled him off the picnic table nearly an unbelievable sight to Mac. "Oh crap," the doctor muttered before he broke into a run toward the Winchester boys, intent on playing referee.

Stunned to be looking from the ground up at his little brother, Dean sputtered, "Sam, what the…"

"You lied to Dad! You didn't get hurt swimming. You were doing some stupid stunt," Sam reproached, sounding much older than his eleven years.

"Says who?!" Dean angrily challenged as he came to his feet.

"Mac," Sam stated, chin jutting out with confidence, like his star witness was irreproachable.

"Well, he doesn't know what he's talking about," Dean heatedly denied, didn't chance a look to Mackland who was in hearing distance by then.

"Mac's not lying, you are!" Sam shouted back, wanted the truth, didn't want to be treated like some kid anymore, to be _protected._

But Dean's eyes hardened and his voice was sharp as cut glass. "Like you lied when you told me you were spending the night at a friend's house so you could get a two day start on Arizona. If anyone's a liar in our family, it's you," punctuating that assessment by giving Sam's right shoulder a shove.

"I wouldna had to lie to you if I thought you would have come with me!" Sam volleyed back, chagrined that his voice screeched, telegraphing his emotions like some first grader.

"What? Ditch Dad, like you did?" Dean acidly accused.

"He doesn't deserve the blind loyalty you have to him," Sam declared, not for the first time in their lives.

"He's my Dad, your Dad. That means something to me and it should mean something to you," Dean growled in Sam's face, didn't know why Sam had to be told this, didn't know this instinctively.

But Sam wasn't getting it, at all. "Who says?! He's a jerk to both of us, why shouldn't we…"

"Mom! Mom said!" Dean screamed before he bit out, "She said we needed him, that even when the people we love hurt us…we shouldn't stop loving them." But the next he said softly with crushing sorrow, "Even if I really want to."

Brushing past Sam, Dean came up short when he saw his dad and Caleb on the sidewalk, privy to his conversation with Sam. Cursing under his breath, he did an about face, stalked off into the woods that hemmed in the motel as fast as his bum leg would allow.

"I'll go after him," Caleb offered but John forestalled his action, latched onto his arm and met his eyes.

"No. I'll…" John began in his all-powerful Knight persona before that melted away into a tone of beseeching father, "I need to go."

Caleb nodded his head, watched as John took up Dean's trail. But as John passed Sam, he reached out and tenderly ruffled Sam's hair, vowed quietly but steadfastly to his youngest son, "I'm going to fix this Sam, I will."

And Sam nodded, knew that his dad failed at a boatload of stuff but he wouldn't fail in this. Believed in his Dad like he rarely had lately, because Dean meant the world to them both and there was no way they were going to stand by and lose him. No way, no how.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

TBC

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Thanks for reading and for the awesome reviews on my previous chapter!

Well, I think the end if nigh! One more chapter should wrap this tale up. I'm sad to see it coming to a close. You've all been so wonderfully supportive.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	16. Reach the Stars

Looking For Space

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author's Note: Final chapter! Woo hoo! And I did go a little AU from the Show's backstory. No surprise for me but the chapter's a bit long. And here's part of the song that inspired the title for this chapter…

_When you're looking for space and to find out who you are_

_When you're looking to try and reach the stars_

_It's a sweet, sweet dream._

_~ John Denver – Looking for Space_

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

CHAPTER 16: Reach the Stars

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

They cried unto Thee, and were delivered; they trusted in Thee, and were not confounded.

~ Psalms 22:5

**SNBROSSNOBROSSN**

Sitting on a downed tree trunk overlooking the valley, Dean sighed when he heard the crunch of footsteps in the woods behind him. "How'd you find me?" he asked with exasperation. "I didn't even break any branches," he pointed out, had thought he had been pretty good at not leaving a discernible trail that Caleb could follow.

But it wasn't Caleb who replied.

"You didn't but I know that, whenever you're troubled, you find a breathtaking vista to gaze at," John revealed as he came to stand beside the tree trunk, took his time switching his gaze from the picturesque scene before him down to Dean. "I know you, Son. You are….you _were_ the predictable son," he sheepishly corrected, still shaken that he didn't know either of his sons like he thought he did.

Dean said nothing, was a little stunned that John knew where he liked to go when he was working through his feelings, that his dad took the time to know that about him.

Without waiting for an invitation that might not come, John claimed a seat on the trunk beside Dean, wa transfixed by his son's presence, by the terrifying reality of how close he had come to losing Dean. "You know why I packed Sam up and we left Pastor Jim's in the dead of night to come here?" he quietly asked.

Eyes fixed on the horizon and not his father, Dean irritably supplied, "Because Caleb called and told you I was screwing up."

"Because Caleb said you needed me," John huskily recounted, found that his sons needing him, that still had the power to make his chest tighten and his eyes sting.

Dean's head swung to John at the unexpected reason behind his sudden appearance. Held his breath waiting for his father's stinging rebuke for his actions to come next….but it didn't. In fact, John said nothing. Dean straightened his stance, "I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing, sir." Had hope again that this was salvageable, that the video of his train stunt didn't matter to his dad after all. That it only mattered that he was strong, competent, could still be trusted to watch over Sam.

Dean slipping into his loyal son …no…. loyal _soldier_ routine made John flinch, made Caleb's advice all the more correct. He was Dean's father, first and foremost. A commanding officer didn't love his soldiers like he loved his sons, wouldn't sacrifice everything to save those under his charge, wouldn't denounce everything he believed in, everything he was to keep his soldiers safe…to try and give them even a slice of happiness. Like he would for Sam and Dean at the drop of a hat.

"Dean, I saw the train stunt…heard about the tram accident," John announced, not with so much rebuke but to put it out there, to stop Dean's attempts to downplay what he had done, how reckless he had been.

"So," Dean growled, coming to his feet and taking a few steps forward, putting his father at his back. "I didn't break any of your rules. I went on Caleb's hunt, played the part you wanted me to and then I was free to do my own thing."

John came to a stand too, tersely addressed his son's rigid back, "_Do your own thing_….you mean almost get yourself killed?!"

Dean's jaw clenched, knew that Caleb had skewed his father's opinion about the stunts, probably Jason's dad had too. Swinging around, he stood his ground and met his Dad's gaze unflinchingly. "I was just having fun. I don't remember that being on your 'do not do' list. Maybe you should add it…along with 'do not run away' for Sam's benefit. Guess it's best if Sam and I aren't left to think for ourselves, right? On hunts…or on our down time."

Fear giving way to anger, John growled, "Not if you both are going to make piss poor decisions."

"Yes, sir," Dean snapped back like a well-disciplined soldier fresh out of boot camp. "We should get back to the motel…" and he made to head back into the woods but his father stepped into his path, latched onto his arms and held on tight.

"Dean," John beseeched, wanting to undo the tension..the hurt between them, to fix things, like he had promised Sam that he would. But Dean's eyes were hard as they lanced into his, full of challenge…and pain. '_Pain I put there_.' Wished for the millionth time that Mary was there, could offer her tender counter to his gruff fumbling ways of showing his love to his sons. But Mary's memories were still there in him and in Dean, could maybe help guide them now. "When did your mother say that to you…about loving people even when they hurt you?"

Dean stiffen in John's hold and his eyes went wild before they flickered away to the trees, to anything that wasn't his father's face. But his dad wasn't releasing him, called out his name with gentle concern he rarely showed, "Dean. Please just talk to me, son."

But Dean suddenly wanted to hurt his father, to pay him back for his failings, to him, to Sam…to his mom. So he turned cold eyes onto his father's dark gaze. "I promised mom I wouldn't ever leave her…not like you did."

John's breath caught and he felt his heart do a staccato beat. "When did I…"

"The days you stayed away, that Mom begged you to come home to us, said Sammy and I needed you," Dean sharply indicted, hated that there were so many good times with his mother that he couldn't remember but this memory stayed, tainted so much.

Numbly, John dropped his hands from Dean. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he felt a tsunami of regrets washing over him. Regrets for not appreciating, valuing the good times while he had them, for not saving Mary, for not sparing Dean the pain of losing his mother, of Sam never knowing a mother's love.

Caught up in his memories, Dean choked out, "I told her that you still loved her. Said that I loved her and I promised her ..I promised her that I would never leave her. But I did. She needed me and I left her …in the fire. I chose Sam over her…..." tears streaming down his face.

"Dean, no," John desolately denied as he stepped forward, pulled Dean into his arms. He held his son against his chest as his boy fought back a sob. By Dean's ear he fervently declared, "It was my job to not leave her…to save her. And I failed. Me. Not you, Dean. Not you, son. Never you."

Pushing out of his father's hold, Dean took a few steps back but didn't run from his father, from everything that was building up in his heart. Stood there and let his tears show, let his father see him as he was, let him be disappointed in him for not being the strong soldier he wanted. "Since I failed to keep my promise to mom, I thought I'd keep it with you and Sam. But…you both rather leave me behind. Seems pretty _stupid_ to uphold a promise no one wants you to keep."

"Dean.." John began but Dean held up his hand, brazenly cut him off.

"Don't, Dad. Don't. I'll get over it. I'll reset my priorities. But don't worry, I'll still be your good little hunter, still be Sam's protector. I'll do it for Mom." Then Dean walked into the woods but his father's declaration slowed his departure.

"I left for her own good…for yours and for Sammy's," John began, knew he had to let his guard down, show Dean the ugly part of him so Dean could see the goodness in himself. "I was drinking…heavily. Was always arguing with Mary…feared that I would….hit her. Was terrified I would hurt you or Sammy. And I was…it didn't have a name back then but I was going through PTSD from the war, was having nightmares…at night…during the day. I wasn't …good for your mother…or you boys." Felt both relieved and scared when Dean turned around to face him, wearing a stunned and upset expression.

But through his painful memories, John found a bittersweet smile curling up his lips as his eyes welled as they held onto Dean's. "But Mary was like you, Dean. She forgave so easily, only saw the good in the people she loved. Wanted me back…believed in me, in my goodness when I didn't, when I couldn't. Her love made me good…just like yours does. Your love makes me into some hero when I'm just some scared guy crazy with fear that he'll lose his kids. Makes Sam into some …some rebel with a cause who thinks he can set up shop in Arizona, with a dog and a pizza place on speed dial and be ok until you ditch me and join him."

There John shook his head. "But if you leave us…if you give up on us…on yourself…" he couldn't get the rest out before biting back a sob. "If you died…Sammy and I …we wouldn't make it without you, Dean. I know we've hurt you and let you down but…we love you. And maybe that's not much…."

But then he had his arms full with his fifteen year old son. Holding on tight, he kissed the crown of Dean's head. "You're Mary's gift to me…to Sam. She used to call you her…"

"Little angel," Dean fondly supplied.

John chuckled and playfully rubbed Dean's hair into an unruly mess, "Boy, she did not know how much of a wild child you would turn out to be."

"Hey, that was when I was four," Dean protested as he pushed back far enough to stare up at his dad in mock defiance. "And I'm still an angel."

John snorted. "Not even Jim can call you that with a straight face. And Caleb's been working overtime all these years to make sure an angel is the last thing you are."

Dean smiled brazenly up at his dad. "Mackland always says a comprehensive education can get a man far in life."

"Yeah, it's that liberal interpretation of good advice that always gets you and Junior in hot water. Speaking of Reaves, we better get back there before he sics the hounds after us. I had to arm wrestle him to be the one to come after you," he only half joked as he slung his arm over Dean's shoulders and steered his son back into the woods. They were going home to the family that was waiting for them.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Having claimed a seat on the picnic table beside Sam, Mackland watched his son pace in front of him, Caleb's eyes never leaving the trail that Dean and then John had disappeared down. "Caleb, take a load off," he finally said, patting the bench beside him. But Caleb gave a shake of his head and did another round of pacing. Though he wanted to remind Caleb that John was Dean's dad, that it was John's right to be out there with his own son, he didn't, was afraid he or Caleb might forget themselves and say things they shouldn't in front of Sam.

"Caleb, maybe you should go find them," Sam suggested, proving that his thoughts were running along the same lines as Reaves and Ames.

And Sam's request was good enough for Caleb, had him stalking forward only to find John and Dean emerging just then from the path. Intently studying Dean's face and using his abilities to gauge the younger boy's emotions, Caleb could detect the remnants of an emotional upheaval by the ebb coming off Dean and by the boy's red eyes but, in contract, Dean wore a tired but happy look of contentment. And blanketing all that was an unmistakable sense of peace, something that Dean had been missing the last few days…heck, had been missing for the past _year._

His new found insight stuck Caleb hard, that Dean had been under this shadow of unhappiness longer then he realized. That it didn't start with Sam running away, or their last crappy hunt. That Dean had been drowning in hurt and uncertainty about his value to the ones he loved for a long time and Caleb hadn't seen it, none of them had. Not until Dean couldn't bear the weight anymore, nearly died trying to show those he loved how he felt.

As John left Dean's side to give the younger men their privacy, Caleb did a little double take at the suspiciously matching red eyes John was sporting. "Hey, you alright?" Caleb quietly asked Dean, couldn't resist the urge to reach out and snag the kid's jacket lapel within his fingers, to establish some physical contact between them.

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean huskily answered, gave a small but earnest smile to tell Caleb he wasn't lying. Not anymore.

Relieved, Caleb nodded his head, swallowed down his own emotional response to his dissipating worry. "So you and your Dad…."

"We're good too," Dean declared.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Relieved and happy at Dean's return, Sam couldn't help but offer up a smile as his father came toward him. His dad had kept his promise and Dean didn't even look mad anymore.

As if reading his son's mind, John greeted Sam by lightheartedly saying, "See, I'm not totally full of crap, I brought your brother back to us."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam replied, the first time in a long time his gratitude to his father was real.

John nodded, almost ashamed to get praise for doing something any half-way decent dad should be capable of accomplishing. Reaching out, he gently cupped the side of Sam's neck with his big hand. "And I know keeping one promise after I've broken hundreds before probably doesn't give me much credit but I'll try to do better, Sam. I will. By your brother…and by you."

It wasn't surprising that Sam's concern wasn't about his father keeping his promise to him but about his older brother's welfare. "Dean, he won't try to hurt himself anymore?"

Slipping his hand from Sam, John gave a negative shake of his head in answer. "I told him you and I wouldn't survive without him, that we needed him. That he couldn't give up on us two jerks…even though we hurt him."

Eyes welling at the pain he caused Dean…his Dad by running away, Sam chokingly asked, "You think he'll forgive us?"

John knew Sam's real question: would Dean forgive him for running away. "Like I told Dean…he's a lot like your mother, forgives easily those he loves.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

"And you and Sam?" Caleb pressed, wasn't going to do half measures making sure Dean was alright this time.

Dean's eyes looked behind Caleb to John and Sam off talking to themselves, and when Sam's eyes darted to him, Dean didn't flinch away, held his brother's upset gaze, and gave a wink. And his act of forgiveness was worth it when Sam gave a big smile back. "We're gonna be alright," Dean determined before he returned his attention to Caleb, "after he does laundry duty for a month, makes me spaghettios every time I want them and goes away when I want to bring a hot girl home."

"Like you ever bring a girl home, hot or not," Caleb jeered, earning him a mock punch in the gut from Dean which he just laughed over.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

'_Leave it up to my big, goofy brother to say 'I forgive you' by __**winking**__ at me_,' Sam giddily thought even as he fought down the urge to run and give the big goof a rib-breaking hug. But his dad shifting on his feet in front of him reminded Sam that he had other bridges to mend. Looking up at his father, Sam swallowed nervously, didn't know how things would go between him and his dad. "Guess we could take a page out of Dean's book…call a truce between us."

Not letting on his shock at Sam's concession, John calmly returned, "Sure…with some terms."

"What terms?" Sam suspiciously demanded.

Meeting Sam's wary gaze head on, John outlined the rules of his surrender. "Number one: We agree to talk more and shout less."

"Might be doable," Sam hedged, enjoyed his father's smirk at his response.

"And Number two…" John paused for dramatic effect, saw Sam brace himself for whatever unpleasant rule came next. "I'll find us a place to live for the full school year. Maybe you can play a sport…soccer, or be in a play…or something," he casually suggested, as if those ideas were coming off the top of his head instead of having been supplied to him.

But Sam was staring at him wide-eyed. "For a full school year, really?"

John shrugged as if it was no big deal instead of something that put a cramp in all his plans. "We can try it until you get bored…."

"I won't!" Sam reassured before he gave his dad a scrutinizing look. "Hey, how'd you know I wanted to play soccer, join a play?"

"Your brother," John admitted like he planned to all along. "He's been bugging me to let you join an activity, says you're really good at soccer. And who knows, maybe you're the next Pelé."

"Who?" Sam's confusion real.

Rolling his eyes at it being proven once again how old and out of touch he was, John grumbled, "Ancient soccer player."

Sam nodded but John knew he didn't get it. "Dad, can I go to Dean now?"

"Yeah, you sure can, Sammy." Contently, he watched as his youngest son made a beeline for Dean and Caleb. Knew that no matter how many fences he and Sam rebuilt, he'd never be as close to Sam as Dean was. That the brothers, they had this….astounding bond. '_Mary, you'd be so proud of our boys. I know I am.'_

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

When Caleb sobered, he tapped Dean on the chest with his knuckles. "Just so we're clear, I _ever_ catch you doing some reckless stunt again, I'm going to bypass telling John and go right to blabbing it to Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes at Damien's try at manipulation. "Rrrriiiigggttt, because you know I wouldn't want Sam following my lead and thinking that him doing dares was Ok."

"Nope," Caleb cockily smiled back. "Because Sammy will soon be taller than you and he'll be able to beat your butt for putting your life in danger."

"Taller than me?!" Dean snorted. "Beat me?! Never. Gonna. Happen."

Sensing mirth between Caleb and his brother, Sam hurried his approach….. to join in on the fun, certainly not because he desperately wanted to hang out with his big brother. "What's never gonna happen?"

"Nothing," Dean said at the same time Caleb merrily announced, "That someday soon you'll be taller than him and able to beat the crap out of him for foolishly risking his life."

"Never happening," Dean firmly denied even as Sam gloated, "Yes, is so happening! And if you need a beat down now to get it through your thick skull that you're not allowed to do any more dares, Caleb and I can take you on. John and Mac can be our tag team."

Reaching out, Dean pulled Sam into an affectionate headlock. "Enough with the wrestling mania watching for you," he said, as he took to tickling his little brother.

Laughing, Sam squirmed out of Dean's hold but didn't leave his brother's side, walked shoulder to shoulder with his brother toward the motel room, with Caleb on Dean's other side. Well, his shoulder was _almost_ up to Dean's, would be when he grew a bit.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Mac had joined John, watched as the boys walked by them as if they were too cool to notice their fathers. He gave John a weird look when the other man asked out of the blue, "You know who Pelé is, right?"

"Yeah, greatest soccer player ever? No matter what David Beckham thinks," Mackland provided, laughed at his friend's sigh and next statement.

"How did we get so old?" John groaned, running a hand down his face.

"Years of practice," Mac shot back, earning him a snort from John Winchester which was some kind of accomplishment, especially after the day John had…they all had had.

"Tell me this gut wrenching worry for my kids will ease up when they turn 18?" John wearily asked, turning to his friend.

"You mean when they're hardly in your line of sight so you have no idea what they're doing or if they're ok, they have this delusional belief that they don't need you anymore so they stop asking your advice and they think they are invincible, can take on the evil in the world without getting a scratch?" Mac caustically parried back.

John grimaced at his friend's bleak prediction for his future mental and emotional well-being. "To quote Sam: You suck, Mac."

Mac snorted. "Truth hurts." But as they watched their sons disappear into the room in animated conversation about wrestling, he spoke, his tone as earnest as his words to Winchester, "And sometimes the truth is the only way to save those we love."

Turning to his friend, John patted Mac on the chest. "Mac ..thank you. For being here, for looking out for Dean. If I had lost him…either of them…."

"You didn't, John. They're both right here. With you," Mac assured.

"I don't deserve them," John declared, his voice raw with the weight of his love for his sons.

"That's been the consensus between Jim, Bobby and I _for years,_" Mac lightheartedly teased back.

"Just shut up, Ames," John laughingly retorted as they started to make their way to their sons.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

While Caleb, John and Mac argued about the best pizza toppings to order from the Italian restaurant down the road, Sam slipped a hand around Dean's forearm and tugged his brother away from the group. Dean meekly went where his brother led, namely to the couch in the far corner of the room, watched as Sam lifted his coat off the couch to reveal a familiar Arizona postage stamped package.

"This is for you," Sam emphatically proclaimed as he presented the package to his brother.

Making no move to reach for what Sam offered, Dean gently said, "Sam, you don't have to give it to me." Understood now how Sam might have felt betrayed that he had helped Dad find him…the same way he had felt knowing Caleb had called his Dad about his stunts.

But Sam shook his head in denial of Dean's suggestion. "No, I got it for you…I sent it to you, Dean."

Recognizing that his brother wasn't giving it to him out of pity because he had gotten all dramatic and gone kamikaze the past few days, but instead Sam had brought it along in anticipation of presenting it to him, Dean took the package in hand and claimed a seat on the couch. Tearing open the cardboard, he pulled out something wound in bubble wrap. Hastily unwinding the wrap, he found he was holding a vinyl of AC/DC that had been painted with Angus Young doing his famous duckwalk.

Eyes flying up to his brother, Dean huskily said, "It's awesome, Sammy."

Almost shyly, Sam pointed to the discarded box. "There's a note."

Retrieving the box from the couch, Dean found a note with his brother's way-too-good-to-be-a-Winchester's handwriting.

"_Dean, I'm ok and I found a place for just you and me. We can do this on our own and we wouldn't have to hunt anymore. You're the one that always takes care of us most of the time anyways. Please Dean. I believe in us. Don't you?"_

A little choked at Sam's proposal for him to join him, that Sam's earlier declaration wasn't said in the heat of the moment, that Sam had _wanted him with him_, had never meant to leave him behind permanently. Looking up at Sam, Dean read the nervous uncertainty in his brother's eyes. "Come here, Sam," he bade even as he gently grabbed his brother's arm, pulled him down to sit on the couch beside him.

Turning on the couch to face his little brother, Dean tenderly assured, "I do, Sam. I do believe in us..but "us" as in you, me, and Dad."

Sam's eyes dropped to his hands. "I know..it's just …It's easy when it's just you and me. Dad….loves us, I know that but he's …."

Smirking, Dean offered up his description of his father, "Like a grizzly bear joining a slumber party."

Sam eyes snapped up to his brother's and he laughed at the comparison, was relieved that Dean didn't hate him and wasn't reprimanding him for how he felt about their dad. "Yeah, that's him… most of the time."

"But he's our grizzly bear," Dean empathically declared, hoped Sam understood what he was saying, that having someone in your life that loved you, it was a gift.

Sam's smile would have been answer enough for Dean. "Yeah, yeah he is." But then Sam's features took on the serious scowl Dean knew always heralded a chick-flick moment.

"Dean, I'm sorry…for running away, for making you think I didn't love you and getting you in trouble with Dad. I didn't think it all through," Sam's earnest appeal for his brother's forgiveness evident in his voice and the regret in his eyes.

"You're eleven, Sam. You don't think things through at that age," Dean graciously forgave even as he teasingly insulted his little brother. "Not to mention that you're fooled pretty easily, too. I mean, you still think wrestling is real."

"Shut up. And it is too," Sam laughingly protested, making a grab to take back his gift but Dean used his longer arm length to keep the record hopelessly out of his reach.

**SNBROSNBROSSN**

Mac had left hours ago, grumbling about being unwilling to endure watching the Mets on a winning streak, even for family time. But the Winchesters and Reaves were sticking it out to the bitter end of the game. Well, ok, Sam, who had claimed a seat on the floor and had propped himself against Dean's legs in a show of unashamed affection, had been out for the past two hours. Dean, on the other hand, had lasted longer, had only slumped against his dad's shoulder in sleep half an hour ago. So it was only John from his position on the couch and Caleb from an uncomfortable chair who witnessed the Mets claim victory over the Giants.

Stretching, Caleb watched fondly as John looked down to his older son's downturned face pressed against his shoulder then down to Sam's head settled on Dean's knee. It was obvious that John hated to move and jostle Dean, and in turn, Sam. At the tender scene, Caleb felt a stab of jealousy that he and Dean hadn't gotten to spend more time together on good terms and now he had to leave. "Guess I better hit the trail," he announced as he stood up, keeping his voice at a lower octave so as to not disturb the boys.

He was surprised when John raised his leg, blocked his path to the door. "Whoa. Whoa. Where do you think you're going, Junior? You can't hang around for the high adrenaline escapades and then leave me stuck dealing with two zonked kids. Family doesn't get off that easily."

Caleb was instantly rendered mute by John's declaration that he was family, that his feelings for Dean…for Sam and John, they weren't one sided. But he didn't get a chance to revel in that before John was treating him like one of his sons and putting him to work.

"You cart Dean to bed. I'll get Sam." Then, with infinite gentleness, John lifted Dean's head from his shoulder and resettled his eldest son's slack body back against the couch. He trailed his hand from the back of Dean's neck across his son's cheek before he forced himself to break the connection and stand up. Stepping over Dean's legs, he crouched down beside Sam, "Come on, Sammy. Time for nightie, night," he softly cajoled as he jostled his youngest son's shoulder. Sam merely snuggled closer to the reassuring presence of his brother and didn't bat an eyelash.

"The hard way it is," John sighed. Slipping his hands behind Sam's back and legs, he pulled his son into his arms and stood up. As he started to carry him to the bed, Sam shifted and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't away from his father but toward him, to tuck his head down to rest it in the center of John's chest. Which made it harder for John thought it should be to settle Sam onto the bed, to give up this rare closeness with his youngest. So maybe he held onto Sam a few beats more than he had too, stood there enjoying the connection, the trust, the reality that he had gotten his son back, and not just physically but emotionally too. Accepted, then and there, that his and Sam's relationship might always be more about shouting than jokes but there would forever be love coursing under all their outward conflict. '_Just like things were with Mary and me. I did the shouting and she did the forgiving but there wasn't a time we didn't love each other_.' That thought gave him the willpower to relinquish his hold on Sam and tuck him under the covers…and give him a kiss on the forehead.

Then John stole out of the room, knew Dean was in good hands with Caleb.

Stepping onto the parking lot, John looked up at the sky, beheld the stars and thanked God for having a soft spot for wayward sons…and mercy on bungling fathers who loved their children more than life itself but were crap at showing it.

**SNBROSSNBROSSN**

Leaning over the fifteen year old slouched on the couch, Caleb lightly tapped Dean's face, quietly taunted, "Let me see those peepers, sunshine."

Dean groggily slurred, blindly swiping at Caleb's hand, "Let me alone."

"If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times…I'm never leaving you alone, Deuce. Now come on, up and adam," Caleb bid, catching Dean's elbow and beginning to tug the kid up. But Dean was more out of it then Caleb thought, felt like he was handling a rag doll when Dean's head limply fell backwards.

Switching up his hold, Caleb braced Dean's neck with his hand and slid his arm around the boy's torso, gave a little shake to the boy now in his arms. "Dude, I am not carrying you like your daddy just carried Sam so come back to the land of the living." And his joke soured his gut the minute he said it because the last few days Dean had been close to forfeiting being in the land of the living. "Deuce?" he called out in fear because maybe Dean wasn't sleeping, maybe he was hurt worse than Mac realized ….maybe…the jerk was playing possum.

Unable to keep the ruse going any longer, Dean smirked and opened one eye to stare at Caleb. "You planning on tucking me in with a bedtime story, too?"

"Yeah, about getting away with burying smart aleck punks in Jim's back forty," Caleb shot back even as he made sure he didn't abruptly drop the kid in his hold but eased him back against the couch, remembered Dean was injured, even if the kid liked to overlook that fact. Did give Dean's uninjured leg a slap. "Haul your butt to bed before your old man finds another reason to want to throttle me."

Dean's forehead furrowed, "Another reason to what?"

Really not wanting Dean to be privy to the scene that unfolded in that very room hours ago between himself and John, Caleb deflected, "I'll use small words to not confuse you: Bed. Now. Deuce." Then he pointed to the bed like Dean would obey as readily as Jim's dog, Scout.

As if he was the psychic one, Dean grumbled, "I'm not Scout, you know," even as he pushed himself off the couch to a stand. But when he did a little stumble to try and compensate for his leg's weakness, Caleb once again was all hands, grabbed him at elbow and his side to steady him. Dean could read the worry in his friend's eyes and that big bad Damien was on the verge of offering to carry him to bed. "Relax, I'm not gonna faceplant, just needed to get my leg working again, got stiff on me," he reassured Reaves as he put more weight on his leg, was relieved that it withstood the action. But he had to hold back a grimace as he did more a hop than a step forward, his leg nor his back enjoying the jostling.

No matter how great Dean thought his acting abilities were, his pain was obvious to Caleb. Maneuvering to Dean's side, the older hunter pulled Dean's arm over his shoulder and slid his own arm around the fifteen year old's waist, but gently because he knew the bruises that marred the kid's back from neck to butt. Then he put them in motion, slowly toward the bed, said quietly, "You need to take more of Mac's pills, the muscle relaxant and the pain pills." And it was a testament to Dean's level of pain that the kid didn't protest, simply gave a nod of his head. So as soon as he safely deposited Dean onto the bed beside Sam's, Caleb headed off to the sink, returned seconds later with a glass of water and pills cupped in his hand, which Dean downed, again without complaint.

Caleb was about to cross examine Dean about his pain level when Dean shifted on the bed so he could dig something out of his jean's pocket.

Opening his hand, Dean presented Caleb's Brotherhood ring back to him.

Caleb felt his heart skip a beat as he was torn between two loyalties. But really, he had his answer, had it the second he took the ring off and relinquished it to Dean. Caleb responded with a shake of his head and an unwavering declaration of "No. I'm sticking with my choice."

But Dean couldn't let Caleb do that, not for him, not when Damien had his own mother's murder to avenge. "You'd really resign me to having Josh be my mentor? You hate me that much?" he sarcastically drawled, hoped he was handling things the right way, didn't want to hurt Caleb more than he already had the last few days.

Seeing through Dean's careless façade about something they both took seriously, Caleb met his friend's eyes with intensity and concern. "You sure you want to hunt again…I just…if you wanted me to talk to your dad…"

Dean shook his head, quietly shared the decision that he had come to sometime between the first stunt he did with Jason and his talk with his dad in the woods that day, "My mom didn't deserve to die like she did. Nobody else deserves to die because of some monster. And if I can save some people…I know it won't bring my mom back but it might make her proud."

Humbled by Dean's good heart, Damien reached out and cupped the boy's cheek, "She's already proud of you, Deuce, we all are." Let that sink in to Dean before he did his zinger. "Of course, a lot of your most endearing qualities like bravery, sharp wit, ingenuity, you learned from me."

Playfully knocking Caleb's hand from his face, Dean objected, "Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, Damien. "

But Caleb's comeback was stern and the finger he pointed at Dean was no-nonsense. "Hey, let's get one thing straight between us…Josh is not giving you advice even on what _movie_ to watch, let alone tips on hunting." Relishing the grin Dean was instantly sporting, Caleb snatched his ring from Dean's palm and decisively slid it on his finger. "You're stuck with me, Deuce…so deal with it."

"Guess I'll muddle through having you as a mentor," Dean drawled, but couldn't manage to wipe the smirk from his features. Was so relieved that his friend wasn't given up on him, especially after the way he had treated him this week. Felt honored that the hunter he trusted, in some ways more than he did his own father, was still willing to train him so he could get his own Brotherhood ring, to help him do for strangers what he hadn't been able to do for his mother: save them from the monsters in the world.

For Caleb's part, his feelings of relief and honor that the younger boy still wanted and trusted him to be his mentor unknowingly matched Dean's. Holding Dean's green gaze, Caleb earnestly vowed, "I won't ever betray your trust in me again, Deuce. You have my word."

Not daring to open his mouth because he wasn't sure he wouldn't do something chick-like and cry, Dean nodded in acceptance of Damien's pledge. But when Caleb started to stand up, was on the precipice of leaving, Dean snagged his arm, knew there was something he needed to say yet to his friend. "Thanks for calling my Dad, for getting him and Sam to come back into town."

"They didn't come back into town, Dean. They came home to _you_." And with that girly statement, Caleb gave Dean a wink. Passing John on the way out the door with a nod, Caleb didn't have any qualms about leaving, knew that the Winchesters were going to be ok now…and so was he.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROS**

Dean couldn't fight back a sappy smirk at Damien's words, silently called his friend a chick as he started to drift off to sleep. Moments later he felt tender fingers stroking his hair before his dad turned off the lamp between the double beds and bade, "Night sons."

And as free as his stunts had made Dean feel, it was way better knowing that he wasn't free, that he belonged somewhere, with someone, was needed, that whatever happened tomorrow, he wouldn't face it by himself. That he wasn't alone. Would never be alone as long as there were people in the world who cared about him, who would kick his butt if he threatened to leave them, who knew who he was soul deep…and loved him still.

So freedom? He'd pass. Because in his book, being with his family trumped freedom every single day of the week.

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

The end!

**SNBROSSNBROSSNBROSSN**

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you to Ridley and Tidia for creating this loving, feel-good AU. And thanks so much to everyone who graciously gave a review for this story, encouraged me and showed this tale some love. Also a shout out to those who read along silently! Glad you all took the journey with me!

Have a great day!

And since it's the season….. Have a Merry Christmas!

Cheryl W.


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